


Diamond Eyes

by Oberro_metalfiend



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: #Normalize Therapy, Adoption, Alpha!Lexa, Alternate Universe - Shapeshifters, Ambassador!Lincoln, Anya is done, Bellamy is trained, Blood and Gore, Cannon Typical Violence, Chancellor!Diane Sydney, Character Death, Cultural Differences, F/F, F/M, GP!Lexa, Homicide, Implied/Referenced Underage Drinking, M/M, Matriarch!Abby, Mental Health Issues, Misunderstandings, Nightbloods, No AI plot, No CoL, Physical Disability, Politics, Raven and Octavia are good Friends, Raven has a cat, Recreational Drug Use, Slow Burn, Spymaster!Anya, Suicide, TBA - Freeform, Therapy is not a Weakness, Torture, Trigger Warnings added, Underage Drinking, pop culture references, world building
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-22
Updated: 2019-07-23
Packaged: 2020-03-09 17:07:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 7
Words: 41,101
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18921370
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Oberro_metalfiend/pseuds/Oberro_metalfiend
Summary: Earth is so much more than they expected. So much more beautiful, but so much more dangerous after the apocalypse. Even still, there is something unmistakably strange about the native population. Can two groups of people so inherently different set aside their biases long enough to forge peace and work together through thick and thin?





	1. The Good Luck Charm

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first posted story, and frankly I'm a little nervous; it's unbeta'd.
> 
> The first victim in war is innocence. 
> 
> Or: the one where the delinquents maintain some of their innocence on the ground.
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

 

It was everything she had ever dreamed of. Incarcerated, it seemed more like a pipe dream. The scratching of graphite against the cold metal of solitary confinement. She livened up her cell with her dreams. Of trees that reached out and touched the sky, of river banks teeming with fish and other aquatic life, of playful little rodent animals scurrying through the local fauna, of majestic snow capped mountain tops resisting the warmth of the sun, even of birds gliding against the puffy clouds. 

It was also everything that frightened her.

Since the crash landing, they made the eminent discovery that humanity had already found a way to move on and prosper without the rest of them in space. Even if they once believed themselves to be the last hope. The only thing about these people...no, savages, was just that. The skirmishes they are actually able to see and survive with them showed that they had little interest in talking, preferring to simply skewer Jasper on a spear, or impale several of the Drop ship's camp with smaller trip-wire triggered spears. They were war born, and they were dangerous. Hell, almost all of the time, they were imperceptible, only being noticed before it was too late. They were hunters. It almost seemed sometimes like they had the local wildlife spying on them! 

Just the other day, she and Bellamy had to talk a paranoid delinquent, barely ten years old out of a panic attack from saying he was being followed by a feline for the better of half the day while he was picking berries for their provisions. Then, allegedly, the cat, just got up and walked away before he sprinted back to camp. Incidentally, a small grey cat was found by their resident munitions expert and mechanic, Raven. The Latina immediately adopted the animal saying that it kept better company than most of the camp, being that ‘Ashes’ actually listened to her over technical rambling.

Bell pointed out later to that child that cats were believed to be curious creatures in nature. It didn’t calm him down though. Wells took it from there. She wished she knew what he said to him because later, the kid was quite happily eating some berries he'd picked earlier, even offering the little animal some of his yield. 

Well, that was before the Charlotte incident that took two lives unnecessarily.

She was glad to have reconciled with her best friend. But it was a little too late. She hated that the time spent hating him was longer than the time reconnecting. He didn’t deserve that. He was far too good a friend to her, even until his dying breath.

Clarke leaned back and sighed through her nose sadly. Her pencil was scratching at the paper in the journal she pilfered from a bunker on her earlier travel into the woods with Finn. She was journaling her experience as well as decorating some pages with inane drawings of the picturesque Earth when it struck her. 

Her breath caught when she looked towards the trees and saw a beautiful bird. A red tailed hawk, if her memory was correct. The bird’s intelligent eyes flicked through the camp from person to person before it flicked it’s wings and refolded them against its body. It was a solitary thing, really. She noticed the kids in the camp deemed it like their camp’s mascot. Apparently this was the same bird that must have made the local canopy it’s home. They even called him a good luck charm - since they have been seeing ‘Remy’ around, the grounders have been quiet, and they’ve actually been doing okay, relatively speaking. 

“See, I told you Remy lives here!” she heard a young girl chide the boy Wells calmed while pointing at the bird that drew Clarke’s own attention. Remy seemed to pose for her to sketch his likeness into her book. 

“You came up with Remy? Why not something cooler like...I dunno,” his voice faltered as he thought of a name, “Ezekiel?” 

“Because. Ezekiel sounds like someone who would work for Chancellor Jaha, Remy would be the nice mess hall attendant that would break the rules and sneak us extra pudding,” another commented.

Clarke shook her head and looked down at her drawing. When her eyes peered back up to the trees, the bird was no longer there. She sighed and finished her thoughts on the previous page, then wrote ‘Remy’ above the drawing before snapping the book closed and replacing it in her bag. Her eyes detected rather suspicious movement from her peripheral vision - it looked like Octavia was sneaking out of camp again. 

Bellamy was going to be annoyed. Though, it was a good look on him, the two co-leaders never really did see eye to eye. Their relationship went as far as respecting one another's strengths, and acknowledging their weaknesses. The issues of the over inflated ego of one of the pompous asses that usually make up the guard force tended to rub her the wrong way anyways.

Clarke made her way over to Raven who was stroking something in her lap. “Hey Raven,” the blonde greeted tiredly. “How’s it coming?” The Latina paused her one handed fiddling with the guts of a dismantled piece of equipment as she turned her attention to the young Griffin and grinned as she stroked the small feline nestled and purring happily whenever she scratched behind it’s brown dotted ears. “Does that cat ever leave?” 

“Sometimes, but she always comes back. And FYI, she is a superb listener. See, when Blake Sr. was on my back earlier about making more bullets I told Ash to sick him and she jumped on that boy’s chest and forced him out. Fierce little mama, she is.” Raven cooed as she scratched under the hazel eyed cat’s chin. 

“Is that why it looks like he had a threesome with a girl with sharp nails?” Clarke shook her head dismissing the delight she felt. She had seen him earlier and offered to assist with the deep marks lining his cheeks, he dismissed her at the time. “How far along are the radios?”

“Close enough, though cat scratch is getting hotter about guessing what we proud geek squad are up to. We just need to get into a few more bunkers with actual functioning parts in order to finish it up. For whatever reason, any form of long distance communication freaks that boy out. I'd wager he’s hiding something.”

Clarke nodded in understanding, knowing that his insistence to distance the rest of the delinquents from wanting to contact the Ark was suspicious. “So when are you, Harper and Monty headed out?”

“Maybe when he’s distracted doing something else. He’s planning a hunting trip and taking the cockroach with him, so it won’t be so hostile for a little while, or we’ll just pull and Octavia and sneak out. If we get caught, I’m blaming you. Cool?”

“Me?” Clarke paused, “that’s good,” Clarke reached into her pocket and unfurled a local map of Virginia that she used a few days prior to chart the way to Mount Weather. Just mark locations on the map, and say that you’ve been doing some scouting.”

“Good idea, Griff,” Raven smirked, “you’re rather devious under all that seriousness.”

∞∞∞

“Are you guys looking for something like this?” Harper stood as she tossed her french braid over her shoulder, as she turned to see Monty and Raven rooting through another cabinet muttering about finding the mother load of all things technological. “Guys?”

“Oh, the sweet, sweet smell of a motherboard in the morning,” Raven sighed wistfully as she nudged Monty who was noshing on the nut pack in his provisions with a grin. 

“Guess what!?” He crunched excitedly. He held up both of his hands which grasped two Motorola brick radios. “They even have the charging stations too. We can make sure we have ground comms so we can check in on one another.”  


“Yeah, but there’s a range on those things.” Raven grasped one in her hand and turned the volume dial. A piercing beep sounded, followed by the robotic voice proclaiming ‘one’. “But it’s charged and works, so props.” She raised her hand that Monty slapped in camaraderie. 

“Hey, what do you guys think of getting some recreational stuff for camp? So you know, there’s...less hostility?” Harper turned around and held up two old world iPods in her hand, and a smirk on her face. 

“Nice!” Monty grinned at the same time Raven’s eyes widened in glee with a ‘hell yeah’. Monty scratched his chin, stroking an imaginary beard. “Why couldn’t we find this one sooner?”

“Not for lack of trying.” Harper smirked. “We should get back.” She looked at her full bag on her hip. “I think Blake is going to be wondering where we all ran off to. And I really don’t want to have him on our case.”

“Agreed,” Raven nodded as she rounded to grasp the ladder to the hatch of the bunker. “Hopefully those girls are keeping him distracted enough.”

With a nod they shouldered their own duffel bags full of tech and other provisions like canned vegetables before they followed the Latina up to the surface.

A shrill howl from the west stopped them in their tracks. “Maybe we can duck in here for a bit? I really don’t want to get eaten alive.” Monty gestured back to the bunker.

“Agreed.”

∞∞∞

Octavia snuck through the trees, re gripping her knife as she crept silently along the forest floor. She was more aware of her surroundings, she was lighter on her feet, and more adaptable to the world around her than her peers were. Her prey was in her sight. She was patient. She was confident. 

She crouched behind a tree. The stocky man with a buzzed Mohawk was unaware of her presence. His back was turned to her as he examined an arrow he was sharpening against a whetstone. The repetitive  _ slick, slick _ of the metal against the surface seemed to reverberate the clearing. 

She moved forward, not a sound, not a breath. She raised her hand, blade poised to strike. Her hand descended. He whirled around and grasped her wrist in his stronger, larger hand as he raised the arm holding the arrow at her neck. Her left hand reached his ribs, she poked his skin with another blade.  


He smiled, “We’ll make a warrior out of you, yet.” He released his hold on her wrist and lowered the arrow. With his free hand he cupped Octavia’s cheek and placed a tender kiss on her lips. She barely noticed he moved until she felt her blade by his ribs getting knocked away and his hand cupping the back of her neck. Suddenly she was on her back with the Grounder kindly smiling down at her with a slight chuckle. 

“Lincoln! I’m never going to learn if you keep getting distracted,” Octavia laughed as she shoved his shoulder. 

“But it is a good distraction. You can absolutely use it against me, if you apply it right.”

“Hmm...Well, I think you might have to teach me that one,” she smirked as she raised herself to capture his lips once more. She bucked her hips and rose her knee to his side and rolled him over, placing her knife at his neck.

“Well, I think I don’t have to, seeing as you have a good handle on it.” His smile slipped from his lips for a moment. “There is something that I need to warn you about.”

“What is it? Are your people coming?”

“No, not mine. Surprisingly,” he muttered under his breath. “There is a very large pack of wolves hunting in this area, and you need to be aware. If they are hungry enough, they may just try to attack.”

“Not your people,” she sighed, “ good. Will they though?”

“I believe these wolves will. And from what I understand, the Commander or the unit leader has not issued a kill order yet, only observation of your people.”

“Let’s not try to convince them that they need to kill us then.”

“Good idea,” Lincoln smiled. “The unit leader operating in this area tends to be a bit hostile, and very effective, whereas Heda is more reasonable, but also not to be trifled with.”

They paused when a howl broke through the silent comfort surrounding them.

“Shit.”

∞∞∞  


“Get into defensive positions! Guard the holes in the fence lines and get those blades facing outwards!” Bellamy took charge as soon as he buttoned the waistband of his pants and snatched his gun from the floor of his tent. Shirtless and armed, the older Blake checked around to make sure the delinquents were moving in double time. It was prudent to be prepared in the event that these damn animals ended up running right through camp.

“It would be easier, Blake, if we all had guns like you,” Murphy’s disinterested drawl sounded from his right, a makeshift spear of broken metal on his shoulder as he waltzed to the self proclaimed leader’s side.

“Yeah, well. The Ark didn’t exactly care enough to spare the munitions and armory to a bunch of homicidal teens,” he grunted in return. “Get moving...unless you want to get eaten alive?”

“Keep your pants on,” the scowling boy grunted as he moved past the older young man and checked his shoulder against his bare chest. “And for the record,” Murphy turned on his heel to walk backwards, “I’m pretty sure in this scenario, I’d be the one surviving it.”

“Asshole,” the dark eyed man mumbled as he glared to the retreating teen. “You! Get that spear higher in the hole - these things can jump the fencing there.” He looked around again. “Where the hell is Raven?” 

“Raven took Monty and Harper to survey the surrounding area,” Clarke approached him from behind. “I asked if she could see if there’s supplies to be scavenged for our winter stores.”

“Really, Princess? I needed her here. She needs to make more munitions.”

“Well, maybe you should have conserved ammunition. She might find more for you. And besides,” Clarke gave the man a deadpanned look, “you apparently need casings in order to hold gunpowder, so what you have is all she could do.”

Bellamy gave the blonde a contemplative glare. “Shit.” Clarke pursed her lips and nodded. 

“They’ll be back.” She rolled the fabric of her shirt, leaving her own worried thoughts unsaid. What if they all got caught up in the animal’s hunt? Maybe they found a bunker to hide in until everything is settled.

“And O? Where’d she go?”  


“Couldn’t tell you. I didn’t see her in camp.”

“Damn it!”

“Where’s Remy?” A girl sidled up to the two leaders as she asked while looking up to Clarke and Bellamy. “He’s not here.”

“Who’s Remy?” Bellamy grunted and took another head count. Everything seemed in order.

“The bird,” she looked up with tearful brown eyes.

“A...a bird?” Bellamy scoffed, ignoring Clarke’s sound of warning. “Listen kid, there is a very real threat. A bird can fly away. He probably ditched his perch. Get back inside.”

“But he’s lucky,” she whimpered.

“Go back inside,” the elder Blake warned the girl. It felt like the calm before the storm, the trees were not moving, the air was stagnant. Bellamy turned his back to the fence line to address the girl fully. His eyes were soft, he looked at her like he always used to when Octavia was scared after one of the usual guards left the Blake quarters on the Ark. “Listen, I know Remy means a lot to you, and I’m sure he’s still nearby, but you need to go back inside to stay safe. It’s okay, everything is going to be -”

“Bell!” Clarke called the man’s attention to her but he didn’t look up, still preoccupied trying to convince the girl that they’ll make do without the lucky charm.

A short bark broke the silence, followed by rustling against the ground. “Shit!” One of the delinquents at the fence cried before he began to scream in pain. A small grey wolf with a bloody muzzle tore into the boy’s neck savagely.

He felt his side arm leave his waistband, the metal scratching at his lower back. The firing of the pistol drew his eyes to the blonde beside him. The wolf toppled over the corpse, dead with a clean shot to the head. The girl scurried off to the safety of the drop ship.

Pandemonium broke out, delinquents began thrusting spears and causing a commotion, trying to make sure the wolves got the point to back off or die, some were far too smart and circumvented the defenses set up.

Bellamy and Clarke made sure to check their fire to kill the wolves that got inside the camp. It was like a wave breaking over the shore. Delinquents fell left and right. Something was off about these animals. They looked malnourished but didn’t stop to feed on their bounty, they stood and attacked another. Again and again. It was like they were in it for a long haul.  


The largest one yet pounced on top of Finn, who grabbed the thick fur lining it’s throat and tried to push it’s blood stained, yellowed teeth from his face. A bullet sounded and the wolf slumped, allowing him to shove it off. “Good shot, Princess!” He yelled breathlessly as he grasped his own makeshift weapon once again.

“How many of these wolves are in this pack!?” Bellamy asked rhetorically in frustration as he continued firing at the fences. The clicking of the empty magazine of his assault rifle stoked dread in his gut like a fire. He shouldered the weapon and grasped a spear of his own and joined the others. 

∞∞∞

Abby and Jackson worked the med bay as they always had, working in efficient tandem to heal the sick and wounded. There were a staggering amount of cases reflecting oxygen deprivation. Jackson was just happy his mentor didn’t get floated from the stunt Abby pulled getting Sinclair’s mechanic an unauthorized trip to Earth. Though, she was walking thin ice with Kane. Thelonious argued that Abby was, in spite of her transgression, essential personnel. 

The two doctors paused their actions to look at the ceiling when the fluorescent bulbs in the lights flickered and the floor of the med bay shook. They looked at one another in concern.

What the hell was going on? Abby stopped dead in her movements as soon as klaxons began to sound. She set the suture kit aside and regarded Jackson was a furrowed brow. The med bay airlock slid open and Kane blocked the frame. He was out of breath.

“Marcus,” Abby deadpanned tonelessly at the sight of the clean shaven man who...appeared to be grief stricken with tears in his eyes. “Marcus, what happened?” Her voice softened.

“My mo-” he cleared his voice. “There’s been an incident in Mecca Station. Evac and secured airlocks. An explosive device was detonated - multiple injured are coming in. I thought to warn you ahead of time.”

“Secured airlocks? Did it damage the O2 scrubbers or something?” Jackson asked worriedly as he pulled away from his patient and began to prepare for the incoming. 

Marcus gestured to the office area as he looked at Abby. The woman nodded and guided him into the private room and took a seat, facing the brown haired man. “Shrapnel punctured the outer hull of the Ark,” he said hoarsely after a moment of silence to collect his thoughts.  


“We don’t have that much oxygen left!” Abby couldn’t help but to smack her hands against the metal desk. “Jake knew that, he got floated because of it. Clarke was imprisoned because of that. Thelonious was informed. We have had several cases of oxygen deprivation in children, Marcus!” Abby ranted. “Humanity is dying, and we have been complacent in this!”

“Abby, there’s - we need to do something. Several have been deemed DOI. The rest who didn’t evacuate in time...suffocation.” He swallowed thickly. “Abby, I have a feeling that this was premeditated.”

∞∞∞

A single shot loud blast echoed over the cacophony of sound followed by the distinct pump of a shotgun and then another blast and some yelps of injured wolves. Someone was flanking them. 

A few injured wolves stole into Octavia’s smokehouse and grasped hunks of meat between their jaws and hobbled off, while the strong wolves began to flee the area as more shotgun blasts, and single fire rounds rang through the air. 

“Thank you for ordering the Reyes special, don’t come again,” the mechanic whooped as she placed the barrel over her shoulder as she strode up to the gate with Monty and Harper beside her with guns of their own in their grasp. Harper put the sling from her lever action rifle around her shoulder while Monty was happy to keep his bolt action in front of his stomach.

Bellamy stabbed the jagged metal into the ground and clenched his jaw. “Where the hell have you three been?”

“Wherever the hell we want, Cat scratch,” Raven smirked. She shoved a marked up map into his chest as she passed him. “Check it out and you’ll see, even wrote up a legend to help you keep up.”  


Harper nodded to Bellamy as she passed and opened a zipper of her bag, handing him a few cartons of ammunition for his service rifle. “These things are heavy.”

“You didn’t leave here with two bags,” Clarke commented as she approached.

“No, we found them in the bunker. Must’ve been a pretty paranoid dude, or something with how much stuff we found,” Raven said as she wiped her forehead with a cloth.

“Seriously, we even found that this guy, Tom P. had a zombie response manual, and a how to survival guide about surviving a nuclear war,” Monty sighed. “Even had some MREs stockpiled.”

“Look how well that turned out,” Murphy grunted disinterestedly. 

“Let’s get these bags back to my humble abode so we can get started,” Raven waved to her compatriots. “We found enough for me to render more bullets and maybe make some land mines.”  


“Dope,” one of the delinquents deadpanned.

“We need to clean up here. Hold a ceremony or something…”

∞∞∞

Abby held her head in her hands in exhaustion. Jackson leaned his head against the wall to cool his forehead with his eyes closed. It had been long and hard, but they were able to save a majority of their patients who were among the evac. Who knows how many were lost in the initial explosion, or even who failed to get out before the airlocks sealed. None of the guards were willing to clear the area. They did find a squad of engineers and mechanics banging on the doors to the airlock trying to get their attention for assistance.

Sinclair was sitting upright rubbing his forehead, fortunate enough to have been wearing the respirator that he just finished fixing at the time of the explosion. He knew as well as they did that he and his small team survived on a stroke of luck. 

The bright lights and sterile smell of the med bay did nothing to ease the discomfort settling behind their eyes. 

The overhead speaker crackled to life. “This is Diane Sydney of Mecca Station. To the citizens of the Ark, I am sorry to inform you that Chancellor Jaha no longer has our best interest in mind. From the workers to the elite. We are running out of oxygen, and out of time. In a mutual agreement between he and I, Thelonious Jaha has abdicated Chancellorship and has turned it over to me.”

 


	2. The Bunker

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! Thank you all for your support :D
> 
> Still not beta'd, so please forgive any mistakes! Or, if you're feeling froggy, let me know what I can fix, it'll be much obliged.
> 
> Please Enjoy.

Clarke stood over the graves of the fallen members of their camp sullenly, shovel in hand. The other two delinquents seldom spoke to her as they worked. She wiped sweat from her brow in the mid September heat. There was this wriggling notion worming it's way into her thoughts that those wolves didn’t act normally. They were hell bent on tearing into their numbers and stealing their provisions.

She sighed, shaking her head. Wells was their resident grave keeper, he had a way of burying their people and making sure each one had their own individualized markings. Wells was always reverent and respectful. In hindsight it was always beautiful how he handled the job; she missed seeing him tending to the fallen. She missed seeing him around camp. He always spoke to them as he worked, she remembered, even though they hated him because he was his father’s son. It was very poignant to step into her late best friend's shoes.

The crunching of grass underfoot of heavy boots announced Bellamy’s presence before he opened his mouth. He passed her left flank before he turned to face Clarke with a scowl.

“We need weapons. Everyone needs a weapon if we’re going to defend ourselves properly. Those wolves were too organized to think like animals should,” he crossed his arms.

“You know, I agree with you." Clarke shoved the spade into the dirt. "We do need better defenses. But, Bellamy, are you suggesting that these animals here have superior intelligence? And are you conceding the fact that by not distributing weapons, you've...shot yourself in the foot?”

“No,” he grunted, scowl deepening. “I’m not suggesting that at all, Princess. What I am suggesting is that we’re not equipped properly, that’s why we’re being outsmarted by damn dogs. What we’re going to do is follow Raven’s directions to an old military bunker that she, Monty and Harper found and see if we can find any and all weapons, blankets, or more MREs before the winter sets in.”

“And you’re asking me to come with?” Bellamy nodded. Clarke quirked a brow before shaking her head. “You know, fine. I’ll come with. I need to be around someone I can’t stand for a little while.” She moved around the man to grab her pack inside Raven’s work space. 

“Hey, Raven,” the blonde greeted the girl hunched over her work space with solder in her hand and safety glasses on her face. Partial radio components were spread out around her, and the long distance communications were coming together quite nicely under her and Monty’s intellectual prowess. “Jasper, Monty, how are you guys?”

The boys looked up from their own projects and waved gaily. Jasper was testing gunpowder to make sure that they weren’t going to be shooting blanks. Something along the lines that it is a chemist’s touch that will do good for that job. 

“Griff, I heard earlier that Cat Scratch was planning on taking you out on an excursion. Take this,” the Latina tossed one of the Motorola radios at her in lieu of a greeting. “This way if you guys run into problems or something, you can radio in to us here. Before you ask, it’s got a limited range. Now, when you go in, we won’t be able to communicate. Capiche? If any Grounders or animals or whatever get curious, you call us from the outside, and we’ll send a party out to back you up.”

“I don’t think it will be necessary, considering how little we have as far as guns are concerned, but okay.” Clarke placed the radio into the mesh side pouch of her backpack. Clarke grasped three empty bags sitting in the corner of the work space which doubled as Raven’s tent. “I’m taking these so we can carry more.”

“Just don’t carry so much that you collapse en route,” Monty warned.

“You’re over encumbered and cannot run!” Jasper over enunciated with a knowing smirk on his face as he raised his hand making eye contact with the black haired boy. Monty also raised his hand. They gave themselves high fives.

“Am I missing something?” Clarke looked dumbfounded to Raven who was also smiling at the reference.

“Yes, my uncultured liege, but don’t worry about it. But do be a dear and not fight with your co-leader. The kids don’t like when mommy and daddy fight.”

Clarke couldn’t help the disgruntled look crossing her features. “Go float yourself, Reyes.”

“Love you too, Clarkie. But you're right, a bit too on the nose for some." 

Clarke met Bellamy who was impatiently waiting by the closed gate, his left hand poised on his belt buckle, and his right hand wrapped around the pistol grip of his firearm. “Are you done?” He grumbled as the blonde shoved two of the extra bags in her possession into his chest. 

“Yes, Bellamy, I am. Raven wanted to give me a radio so we can contact camp if we’re in a bind.” She recognized Bellamy’s muscles clench at the mention of her possessing a radio. “She said there’s a minimal range on it, but the bunker is within that range.”

“Good idea,” Bellamy agreed to have the technology around. “We should head out before it gets too late.”

In the canopy, Remy preened himself as he watched the two leaders break away from camp and begin a trek to the northeast. Inside the camp he noticed a grey cat with black spots and paws prowling about, weaving in and out of the tents and tables the teens had placed in the center of their camp where a few were working in tandem to create provision packs, investigating the habitat. 

He extended his wings and took to the sky.

∞∞∞

Octavia was roused from her slumber when she heard the tinkering of jars opening and closing as well as the aroma of a wonderfully cooked meal. She held the furs to her chest as she sat up smiling at the back of Lincoln who was seasoning the pot over the fire. “What’s that?” She couldn’t help but to ask.

“Stew. The cold is going to be setting in within the coming weeks. Sickness too,” the dark skinned man said without breaking his focus from the slowly boiling thick liquid.  His attention turned to appraise another small fire with slowly leavening bread before he began to stir the pot. 

“Well, it smells delicious.” Octavia pulled the furs around her shoulders and padded over to his side before squatting down and watching what he was doing more carefully. “What happened yesterday, with the wolf pack?”

Lincoln hesitated momentarily before regaining his rhythm with his ladle. “It was as I suspected. The pack attacked your people’s camp and stole some provisions, and took a few lives in the process.” He noticed Octavia tense in his peripheral vision. “You are not at fault, hodness. You would not have been able to make it back in time before the attack. From what I gather, they were scared off within ten minutes, if the boasts of your people are to be taken for truth.” 

“Why did you want me far enough away from camp? That’s why you had me meet you so here, right?” Octavia questioned with narrowed eyes.

“I admit, yes. I wanted to help you. I also wanted to ensure your safety. Though there is something more. Something you should know. It is not out of selfishness that I kept you so far away.”

“Then what is it, Lincoln?” the younger Blake implored. 

“That was not a normal wolf pack,” he answered after a few minutes. He did not have to look at the young woman to know the incredulous look settling on her face. “We - my people call wondering people Noukru. The clan less. With the landing of your people, the haunts of the local game have moved, scared to feed. And these people do not have access to the same resources those affiliated with a clan do. With no food or medicine, they usually resort to banditry or thievery. They were either once of any of the clans of the known world, but were banished for being unable to control their predatory nature or they voluntarily left, or they were born into it.”

“You have predator citizens among your people?” Octavia scoffed before pausing. _Well, everyone has them_ , she supposed. Hell, her camp mates were all criminals including murderers, so it wasn't inconceivable. “What do people who break away from their clans have to do with a pack of wolves?” She rephrased after shaking her head in an attempt to process the new information.

He sighed. “They have carriers with the spirit of wolves in their ranks. Those who attacked your people were human.” Lincoln took a bowl in his hand before ladling out a bit of the stew and handed it to Octavia. He removed one of his knives and cut the small loaf of bread in half and offered it to her as well. "It is only in their nature to hunt in a pack."

“That doesn’t make any sense to me, Lincoln. Why are you telling me this?”

“Most were banished because they could not keep their animalistic nature controlled. Heda created laws enforcing that these behaviors were intolerable, and to act upon the base desires in predatory nature, be they wolves or not, would result in a just punishment. No one knows how, or why some of us are the way we are, but it's...just a part of my people’s culture.” He shrugged. “I tell you this because I trust you with this information.”

“I know you wouldn’t lie to me, but this - this is a bit...far fetched, don’t you think?” Octavia said hesitantly as she swallowed a morsel of food. 

“Yes, I agree. It is very hard to believe. But it is still the truth. Not everyone of my people has a spirit connection to an animal, but those that do have the ability to create strong bonds with another who can also shift.” Lincoln hesitated, placing his stew by his outstretched leg before pulling his pant leg out of his boot revealing a tattoo of a wolf on his calf. “My familiar is that of a bird - I prefer to take the form of a hawk. And because of that, my soul bond is to a wolf. The bird and the wolf are...I suppose you could say friends, or at the very least a counterweight, maybe. They balance one another.”

“So what you’re telling me is that you can magically change into a bird, and your best friend is a wolf?” She deadpanned with a scoff, “sure.”

Lincoln ran his hand down the back of his head and rested it on his neck. "I understand that you will not believe me. The wolf who I’ve bonded with, she always said that to be armed with knowledge is to be doubly prepared. You will not believe me until I show evidence, I know. And I will show you so that you may know how to distinguish us from natural animals so your people are not engaging in some strange form of cannibalism.”

She felt what he said was meant to be a joke, but couldn’t shake the feeling that it wasn’t. She couldn’t help but feel her stomach churn uncomfortably at the thought of accidentally eating another human being.

∞∞∞

Raven and Monty sat back in awe of their work. She may not have been the belle of the ball, but the radio appeared to be functional. Raven hooked herself up to a harness and began the triumphant climb to the top of the Drop ship, the satellite transmitter in hand, and her pilfered welding gear on her hip. Seeing Raven perfectly capable of handling things on the exterior, Monty began his programming of the telecommunication station that had Chancellor Jaha’s pre-recorded message for the 100. He removed his vital sign monitor and replaced the circuitry in the radio with the technology in the device from his wrist. 

As soon as a connection was made, Monty ran out of the Drop ship and hailed Raven to cease her movements adjusting the satellite. The mechanic zipped down the line, back to the Earth and followed the excited Asian boy into the Drop ship and verified that they established a secure and relatively strong connection. 

The two touched knuckles to convey a job well done.

Raven’s eyes bore into the blank screen as she held the button to hail an outgoing message down, “Ark station Alpha to Earth, come in. This is Raven Reyes, calling for Abby Griffin. Abby, come in.”  After a pause, she repeated herself. After another moment after the second call, Raven sighed in frustration. “Is anyone on the Ark available to pick up the damn radio!? This is Raven Reyes.”

The screen crackled to life, a miffed security officer on the other line. _“Wick, would you stop with the crank calls?”_ The desk sergeant operating the system grunted. She seemed to be getting them for a while now. 

“It’s not a crank call, and don’t lump me into the same category as that engineer with a God-complex. This is Raven Reyes, formerly of GoSci, now calling from Earth, would you get Abby?”

_“...It’s not a joke? Because it really is coming off as one.”_ The operator on the other end scoffed.

“Not a joke. Ping the signal if you have to. Is Abby Griffin there?” The Latina implored the young woman with a single french braid.

_“She was taken into custody by Chancellor Sydney.”_ The officer stated bluntly.

“For what?” Raven felt her voice pitch before she cleared her throat. “I'll say whatever she is accused for, it's bullshit, but it doesn't matter at the moment. Patch me into the council, it’s a matter of dire importance.”

The annoyed sigh of _“Patching you through,”_ was largely ignored by the two earthbound Arkers.

“Chancellor Sydney?” She heard Monty whisper over her shoulder. “Isn’t that the lady who was…?” he trailed off, rotating his wrist in a gesture indicating that he didn’t know how to phrase what he wanted to say.

“Sowing dissent in the working class against the elite before and after getting kicked off the council. Yes. What I want to know is why she’s the acting Chancellor now.”

The image on the small screen changed to a dimly lit council room. Abby was handcuffed off to the side of the screen, in front of Marcus Kane. _“This is Chancellor Sydney. Miss Reyes, I am told you are contacting us from Earth?”_ The woman did well to hide the scoff of disbelief in her tone.

“That’s correct. Dr. Griffin sent me down a few days ago to find out why the vitality devices were going off at an alarming rate and to contact the Ark, as it was assumed that the communications array was damaged in the fall. Monty Green and Harper McIntyre helped me find and rebuild the tech to make contact to inform you that the Earth is habitable…oh, this is Monty,” Raven moved aside for the younger boy to peek his face into the screen. "Proof of life and all of that."

_“Excellent news,”_ the Chancellor smiled sweetly. _“Thank you for confirming that the vitality cuffs are inaccurate. Our records show that Mr. Green and Miss McIntyre have perished. This is absolutely splendid news, Miss Reyes. Thank you for your determination to our cause."_  Diane shook her head ignoring the exasperated huff that vital signs don't just 'go out', there is evidence of elevation in them before death from Abby.  _"_ _Nevertheless, by your tone I understand that there is an issue?”_

“That’s correct. It seems as though we’re not the only ones here.” Raven frowned at the dumbstruck looks the new and old administration’s council members were giving her. “There are people already living here, I would say that they would find themselves uninvited to Mr. Roger’s neighborhood. They’re not too happy that we landed.”

∞∞∞

“So why is it that you get tense whenever someone mentions a radio?” Clarke couldn’t help but ask the broody older boy who took the lead in their expedition. 

“I don’t think that’s any of your business,” he glowered as his feet stomped onto the crunchy green blades of grass.

“We’ve all got problems and things to hide. What did you do? Because I’m sure that Jaha didn’t just agree to let a guard, whose sister is conveniently a criminal by the Ark's standard, get on the Drop ship to look after a bunch of delinquents on Earth. It ultimately was a suicide mission to find out if it was habitable or not. We were going to be floated anyway to preserve oxygen. You’re hiding something.” she accused. 

“Drop it, Princess, you wouldn’t understand half of it.”

“Really? Try me.”

“No. You decided that your Dad’s find needed to be publicized, that’s why you got locked up. You don’t have any dark, hidden secrets. And frankly, neither do I. I’m here ultimately to do what I have been doing my entire life. I’m making sure Octavia is safe. I couldn’t give a damn about anything else.”

“You don’t want us to make contact with the Ark. Why?” She pressed further.

The dark haired boy ignored her as he rounded a molehill and began to track down the slope which revealed a thick reinforced steel door marking the entrance of the bunker. There were thick black coordinates painted in the rusted upper left corner of the door as well as markings indicating that it was a restricted zone of the United States Army identifying that the personnel and provisions within hailed from Fort A.P Hill based out of a place called Bowling Green, Virginia.

“Found it. Lets see what we have here. Help me get the door open.”

“You’re not getting away with not answering me, Bellamy.” Clarke grunted as she held the opposite side of the hatch wheel and pulled with all her might, speaking through clenched teeth. The rusted metal squealed as they pushed and pulled it to loosen it enough to make it spin. A loud thunk preceded the wheel spinning and the clicks of the seals unlocking the door. 

“You just need to understand that I have my reasons, and I don't have to explain myself.” He answered, irritation coating his words like venom, before pulling the door open with Clarke’s help and entering the dusty, spider web laden interior of the bunker. The musty smell of the dark halls pierced their noses. The sound of water droplets hitting a puddle along with their boots on the concrete echoed throughout the deserted halls of the underground supply drop. 

They came across a room with olive drab sea bags full of blankets, winter gear and tan boots that were a part of the standard enlisted ensemble. Clarke removed her backpack and placed the sea bag across her back before shouldering the backpack once more. Bellamy followed suit shortly there after. He was getting more and more frustrated with each passing moment he couldn’t find what he was looking for. He took a crowbar to several wooden supply crates to no avail. Each and every one was turning up empty. 

They came across a room with the sought after MREs - they would make for a great bolster to the winter provisions. These must be at the very least a few steps up from whatever Raven dubbed ‘space paste’ that they served on the Ark in tubes, and it could quite possibly be more flavorful than the charred remains of Dax’s last attempt at cooking seeing as Octavia has been missing from camp from time to time. 

The two Arkers began shoveling the meal packs into their empty backpacks before re-situating them over their shoulders. “We just need to find some firearms, and I would say that we’re very nearly squared away. I'll get Miller to grab a few others and do a second screening of the area to make sure we have all we need from here when we get back.” 

“Yes, that should be fine, "Clarke nodded. "You know, it would raise morale in camp if the rest of our people can talk to their parents. I hear a few of them are getting a bit homesick, and just want to tell their parents they’re okay.”

“And what about you, Princess?”

Clarke couldn’t help but to scoff and roll her eyes as she adjusted the unfamiliar weight on her back. “Please. The people down here are more my family than what I have left on the Ark.

“I feel the same way. Octavia’s my only family, she’s my responsibility.”

“Octavia is probably the most resilient person in our camp. She has more knowledge about everything since she goes AWOL from time to time. She’s our best cook, our best hunter and fisher. She just knows things and how to find them.” Clarke shrugged. “I don’t know how.”

Bellamy nodded in agreement. “That’s not going to stop me from worrying about her. I don’t want what happened to Jasper happen to her.”

The blonde nodded her head in understanding. “And everyone else is hitting a block, if you will. They’re not moving forward. They’re stuck worrying if their family is going to be a candidate to be culled because of the oxygen shortage. There’s probably newborns that are born blind because of oxygen deprivation. More people are going to die if we don’t contact them. Even taking Jaha out of the picture.”

“It’s not Jaha I’m worried about,” Bellamy admitted, causing a thoughtful frown to crease Clarke’s brow. “Where is it?” A frustrated noise passed his lips as he lashed out, kicking a barrel over. A distinct, yet muffled clatter resounded from inside the barrel, and a viscous liquid began dribbling out of the top from a small hole in the lip between the top and the rest of the barrel.

“Hold on, Bellamy.” Clarke held a hand out to cease his movement before touching her fingers to the black substance. “It’s oil. Help me get the barrel up.” The two pulled the container upright and tore the lid off. 

Bellamy brushed his fingers across the top of the oil before reaching in with his fingertips and pulling the stock of a military grade near mint condition firearm out of the damaged and dated blue barrel. “Jackpot,” he smirked.

They withdrew the weapons one by one, setting them aside on a tarp that Bellamy found on a shelf nearby. “If you’re not worried about Jaha, who then?” She pressed, continuing her line of questioning.

“There are worse people than he was on the Ark, Clarke,” Bellamy huffed as he checked the working parts of each weapon.

“Was?” Clarke zeroed in on the tense he used in conjunction to the Chancellor. “What do you mean, ‘was’, Bellamy? Is Jaha dead?” Clarke concluded with an alarmed look. Bellamy’s jaw clenched and his nostrils flared. Clarke continued, cutting off his predictable dismissive comment. “You killed him. You killed him and fled onto the drop ship because it was going to the one place the laws wouldn’t get you,” she observed. “You wanted everyone to take their vital sign cuffs off to make them think radiation killed us.

“You don’t understand.”

“No, I don't." She agreed. "What I do understand though, is that you think yourself better than everyone else, when in reality, you are no different. You committed a crime just like all of us in one degree or another, and instead of facing your punishment, you fled. Like a coward.”

“I did it to protect Octavia.” Bellamy straightened his posture, his dark eyes glaring into the blue of Clarke’s as he stepped into her personal space purveying intimidation. "There's nothing cowardly in making sure you're family is safe my any means necessary," he snarled. 

The blonde shook her head and finished emptying the barrel of weapons before checking in another with clenched teeth. She hesitated before looking back up to her partner. “Fine,” she said eventually. “But people are going to communicate with their parents. And if they wonder where you are, I’ll make sure everyone knows to say that once we landed, you left camp. No one knows where you are. Is that fair?” Clarke negotiated.

The elder Blake narrowed his eyes in suspicion. “You’re being oddly accepting of someone you don’t like, even with a revelation like that.”

“Whether I like you or not has no bearing in this. As far as I’m concerned, where I’m standing, we need each other to survive. We’re all one people against a world we don’t know. Everything is pretty much out to get us. We need to live long enough to get the Ark down here so we can get supplies and better protection, even medicine.” They didn’t exactly need to defer to them to use their supplies.

“Medicine? What, you mean to tell me that Earth Skills wasn’t your best class?” He asked teasingly.

“It was my best class, but the plant life has been mutated by radioactivity, so there’s no guarantee that the properties have stayed the same.” She shoved another firearm onto the tarp. “And the best way to find out what’s beneficial is to sample it, but I don’t want to risk poisoning myself or someone else. You on the other hand…” Clarke trailed off, glaring briefly at the man who was aiming down the sights of another firearm.

A scoff escaped Bellamy’s lips. “Don’t ever let anyone tell you that you don’t crack any jokes, Princess.”

∞∞∞

Octavia was still in a state of shock as her mind wrapped around what Lincoln had shown her. Remy, as the children of the camp called their ever present lurking hawk was actually Lincoln. It explained so much, but also not enough. She walked as Lincoln perched on her shoulder, his head nestled affectionately against her neck, content to just be. This was going to be hard to explain this one to her brother.

It explained why they were never attacked by the man's clan when he was observing them from the trees. Her lover was a scout, so it made sense. It also explained how the  people of first fall of the Ark, well mostly she, was able to find a source for food. He was a driving factor of why they have been able to survive for so long.

It also explained why the migrant clan less people were so famished and desperate. Her people were assumed to be an easy target to raid. They don’t have many among their ranks who shift into birds to find gathering herds or even flocks. Lincoln’s people survive by raising livestock mostly around this time of year and hunting as well. Her mind whirled around the intricacies that surrounded hunting. Like if there were a high count of prey animals one winter, the next would yield a larger predator population the next. With that cycle of life, it put them into a higher predator population now, according to Lincoln, making finding a non-migrant food source harder to find, especially for the wandering people. 

Octavia shook her head to refocus herself. The camp was in sight. 

“When’d you get a pet little Blake?” Raven asked as she was leaned against one of the trees outside camp with a full bag of metal plates. A landmine was in her hand. Of everyone to be lurking in the wooded area, she wasn't expecting the mechanic.

“Raven,” Octavia greeted with a nod of her head. “He just likes me, I guess. When did you get a three-pound-when-wet cat?” She countered. "She's so tiny it's adorable, if you don't consider how hostile she actually is."

“She just likes me, I’m awesome like that,” the Latina echoed the sentiment. “Though I haven’t seen her around in a little while.”

“That sucks,” Octavia frowned. “What are these things for?”

“Landmines for wolves, or curious Grounders, take your pick.” Raven situated the device in the ground and covered it with dirt, marking it with a reflective orange flag. “Bellamy took Clarke to an old military bunker to grab more guns since the attack last night. They radioed in a little while ago, they’re on the way back.” The older girl waived Octavia on to follow her as she made her way back into camp. 

The children younger than twelve were awestruck at Octavia’s ability to get Remy out of the trees and be friends with him, others looked at her as if she was a being on a whole other level. The attitudes of the camp were lifted, and as the brunette walked further into camp, she understood immediately. They were in contact with the Ark. Some were recounting tales of the wolf attack, while others were making up grandiose stories of the monstrosities they perceived the Grounders to be.

“Half of them haven’t even left camp and they’re placing a claim like that?” Octavia scoffed disgustedly. “Unbelievable.”

Raven shrugged. “These Grounders started it. Isn’t perception reality for some people? Some of them talk a good game but will shit a brick if they ever see one of them.”

“We’re on a brink of war with the indigenous people; talk like this won’t help the situation.” She gestured to the animatedly speaking delinquents. “Us getting more weapons and placing landmines aren’t a show of good faith that they should just leave us alone, Raven.”

“Look, O. I don’t call the shots. But the ability to defend myself if the need arises gives me peace of mind. I’d rather not be kicking myself in the ass for not being prepared. Wouldn’t you?”

“Maybe if we talked to them they will help us. We have options, Rae. What if, hypothetically, we went to them and said that we’re sorry we accidentally invaded their land, but we didn’t exactly do it by choice. What if they decided to take us in, rather than stalk us?”

“Yeah, I think you're forgetting the pointy weapon part. Personally, the philosophical fear of the unknown is stronger than fear of the known, O. As far as I can tell, both options have the potential to be equally bad. One has the potential to be even worse than the other."

“How do you mean?”

“Well, the Grounders, we don’t know them, and we don’t know if they’d help us. Hell, they might stick us on the business end of their weapons. On the Ark, Jaha is not the Chancellor anymore, but Diane Sydney is. See what I’m getting at?”

“I can’t say that I do,” Octavia shook her head, a scowl finding its place between her brows.

“We’re stuck between a rock and a hard place. Sydney is known in Mecca Station and even GoSci for stirring up trouble behind the scenes and rallying the working class against the elites of the Ark. Now that she’s in charge of the Ark, who’s to say she won’t exacerbate the situation with the Grounders? If we’re with them, who’s to say they won’t kill us, or worse in that situation? If we get the Ark down here, we can use their resources. Maybe Clarke will have an idea of what to do then.” Raven shrugged. “That, and I can’t keep running expeditions to find more scrap to build useful things. So, what I'm saying is in a conversation between the entity who's game the most of us know how to play versus the Grounders? I'm going to play the game.”

Octavia clenched her jaw in thought. With how the delinquents are drumming up stories of the Grounders, it’s not even a question of 'if' Sydney will pick a fight with them, but 'when'. “This is going to be a nightmare,” she whispered to Lincoln on her shoulder. He nudged her neck once more, feeling the silken hair rub against his feathers. It seems the scales have already been tipped.   

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. 
> 
> I would love to hear some feedback to help me improve my writing and make sure I'm answering all possible questions throughout the story progression. 
> 
> Thanks for reading!
> 
> :)


	3. Questions of Medicine and Machinations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back! 
> 
> Just a heads up, there is a bit of Trigedasleng dialogue in this chapter for reasons :) I pulled most of my sources for translations out of the linked script and dictionary(?) in the bottom notations under the translations; it's just my earnest attempt at it. Check it out if you're interested.
> 
> Featuring Bellamy 'swooping in' because he can't seem delegate for reasons [we're working on that ;)].
> 
> Also definitely edited over and over again when I should be asleep - 0400 wake up :d (I apologize for any mistakes especially now due to lack of sleep). I notice it's a common thing, writing and such under these circumstances, 5 more minutes is applicable for most everything, isn't it?

Clarke finally had a break from taking care of her new wards in the drop ship. Sickness settled in with the sudden drop in the nighttime temperature. She felt for the hardworking medical staff on the Ark who put in days of work at a time only getting small winks of sleep in between patients. She was just happy to have such willing delinquents to learn, especially the sullen Murphy, a surprisingly adept student, would have made for a decent nurse in another life. She sighed, dismissing the thought.

The blonde watched the cloth covering Raven’s workbench intensely. She knew that little cat was under there. The mechanic called her ‘Ashes’ but if hell spawn existed, it would lead them, in reality. And since Raven was not in the room, Clarke couldn’t help but feel like prey to the large, rounded hazel eyes that see far too much. She couldn’t let her guard down.

To give the tiny cat a sense that she wasn’t a threat to be defended against, she pulled out her journal slowly, eyes darting back and forth suspiciously. She sighed as she turned the pages to find her inventory list. “We need anti-inflammatories, acetomenphine, some kind of dextromethorphan, some kind of expectorant, naproxen, maybe?” Clarke pressed her hand to her cheek as she chewed the end of her pen. The words sounded almost foreign to her own ears, even though she heard them for the majority of her life. Most of the bunkers they’ve raided in the surrounding area were really not well stocked with medical supplies, if she was being honest. Common painkillers, sinus relief, fever reducers even finding a single pill would be great. There were rumors circulating that Chancellor Sydney’s crackpot plan of landing the whole Ark on Unity Day, so until then, they were on their own. And they needed some supplies.

She could almost hear the pain filled coughs and groans of her unconscious peers that had taken ill almost overnight. The pale feverish skin, complaints of being cold while burning up and the distinct discoloration, almost bruising around their eyes was worrisome. Especially to their already diminished medicine stores. She could only wrack her brain so much to try and figure out a way besides hoping that their symptoms faded with time. It was still too early to tell as of yet. She knew that it would only get worse before it got better. And while she saw nothing of the like of this sickness on the Ark, her mother had a stockpile of old medical journals that she often loaned the young Clarke to investigate to her heart's desire. Was this a super virus bolstered by radiation? Was it pneumonia? She couldn't tell. 

A scuffling noise to the right of the tent drew Clarke’s immediate attention, breaking her mulling thoughts. She could see a single, large hazel eye and a rounded ear peeking at her from behind the edge of the pallet elevating the mechanic’s bed roll off of the ground. She knew that it was attached to the stout body of the small animal. Was it a kitten or an adult? She saw old videos on the Ark, and every character who owned a cat showed that they were more aerodynamic and slightly larger. The tiny cat ducked back into cover.

Was it just toying with her? Was the malignant glint in those feline eyes a figment of her imagination?

“...Griff?” Clarke jumped and whirled around, ready to fight off whoever entered the tent. “Woah! Easy does it, Clarke. Stressing like that won’t do you no good. What’s going on that’s got you all jumpy?”

“That thing, your cat.” Clarke answered taking a deep breath. “It freaks me out, and I think it will murder us in our sleep, Rae.”

Raven scoffed, “Come on, Ashes is a cutie pie,” the Latina walked over to the edge of the bedroll and stooped to pick the aggravated looking cat up, cradling it under its front arms and grinning with glee. Ashes’s puffed tail flicked, and her ears lowered against her head. “And also is a cat, so you’re right, she probably would,” she shrugged. “Death by cuteness overload. I’m cool with that.”

“Raven, she looks pissed, you might want to put her down,” the blonde warned. The mechanic brought the cat to her chest and rubbed under her chin with a fond smile. Begrudgingly, Ashes relented to the hold and began easing up and looking like she was enjoying the contact. “You’re unbelievable."  
  
“Thanks, I do try my best. Now,” Raven put the cat down. “I talked to Bell, and told him about our storage issue, and that we need to find more medicine in the meantime. And a little while ago, I spied with my genius eye, Octavia sneaking back into camp from her rendezvous with the local area. What do you say to a little excursion?”

“Raven,” Clarke sighed, “I can’t believe I’m going to say this, but Bellamy worries about Octavia. I think we should give them a chance to talk their problems out."  
  
“So…? What you’re telling me his worry is best translated to dickishness? From what I’ve seen, your co doesn’t exactly tap into his feels, so you know it’s going to be a Blake showdown. They’re both stubborn as hell.”

“I guess that’s just how it comes off,” the blonde shrugged. “If it needs to happen, it’s better to rip the band-aid off, right?”

“You were going to be a doctor before lock up? Shit, we dodged a bullet there with that mentality.” Raven shook her head bemusedly. “Anyway, she knows her shit, and might rub her ways off on us; share the wealth, as it were. C’mon, Clarkie, I’m not going to beg.”

“Fine, let’s go talk to her.”  
  
“Listen, I heard about what happened on day one from Finn. You are not responsible for Jasper becoming a Jas-kabob. Hell, you saved the kid’s life and you’re not even a practicing medical professional. You do get kudos for that. Just because we’re linking up with O doesn’t mean it’s going to happen again, okay? Relax, you’re not a force of bad luck,” Raven patted Clarke on the arm in support as she moved past her to find the younger Blake.

Octavia was happy to agree to getting out of the camp so soon after only just returning. She seemed different to Clarke. More focused maybe? She was positively glowing, her excitement to return to the depths of the woods brought out mild protestations from Raven to slow down from time to time so she could examine the woods that seemed so familiar to the younger brunette. It truly was a testament to determine how little time she actually spent with her peers. Weeks ago, she was always sneaking away with a boy, but to be alone? That could quite easily set off warning bells.

“Octavia, you seem like you’re doing well.” Clarke observed, “happy even, considering the large adjustment we are going through.”

“I was always the girl under the floor, here, I have the potential to be whoever I want to be.” Octavia replied without turning to look at the leader. “Anyway, what exactly are we looking for?”

“Anything that could be used for medicine.” Clarke looked around at the surrounding area, missing the pointed frown the youngest brunette wore. “And if we can find actual medicine, that would be great.”

“I’ll keep a lookout.” Octavia nearly cringed at the sound of Raven and Clarke nearly stomping through the lush woods as they began to search the area for familiar foliage from Earth Skills. The brunette frowned, she wished Lincoln shared more of his medical knowledge with her, and she couldn’t even ask him now seeing that he mentioned he was to meet his unit leader to get an update and receive new orders if it was applicable. She reviewed in her mind what he has taught her in the short time of their relationship. Tree bark was good for medicine, she remembered the taste of the coarse wood between her teeth when she first met the man when he took her away from the bottom of a ravine. She remembered how she was terrified that he was gagging her so he could kill her slowly, and she wouldn’t be able to scream for help. But then, she remembered the feel of his fingertips against her cheeks when he untied the cloth from around her mouth and removed the bark, setting it aside, gently wiping the blood from her chapped lips before giving her water, and a new sliver of tree bark. She fought the fond smile threatening to form on her lips. Lincoln was so tender with her, so much so that it confused her at first.

She did use that against him, to let him trust her enough to leave her unsupervised. She took advantage of his absence and made her great escape. He caught up with her easily, she remembered. He saved her from the stretch of forest his people shepherded hers to with the trip wired spears. If only she knew what he mixed together to form that green goop that he slathered onto her palms from the sharp rocks digging into her skin. It burned, but he said it was something like a salve or a poultice of some kind. Was that the something Clarke was looking for?  

Her reverie was broken by the blonde asking if there was a river nearby. “There is, down that way.” She nodded and pointed in the direction where the craggy rocks and jagged earth exposed soil and roots of the trees as the flat land sloped into separate hills.

“Earth never ceases to amaze me with how beautiful it actually is.” Raven’s face lit up with a smile. “Seriously, if there were no threat of death looming over us every day, I would travel until I saw every bit of it.”

“You probably could be able to. I don’t think there’s terrible people here.” Clarke and Raven looked at the youngest in disbelief. “Misunderstood, maybe. Don’t look at me like that, Raven, you know my opinion on it.”

“Your opinion?” Clarke asked with a slightly furrowed brow. She must have missed this conversation. “You were there when Jasper was speared, O. They’re violent,” she shook her head in disbelief.

“And we're not? Besides, we technically invaded their land, Clarke. I was told that the Ark was the last hope for humanity, while they managed to survive down here. We have no claim to the land we took. I think maybe, just maybe, we should at least try to talk to them, so they know it was accidental, especially with what leadership is coming down soon. I heard about Sydney from everyone here, and she sounds a bit power hungry to me. Almost like Midas.”

“They’ve seemed perfectly content to attack us no matter where we go,” Clarke frowned, “I don’t trust that they’ll just say, ‘no problem’ if that’s the case.”

“You can’t know until you try, Clarke. Bell is happy to lean on the idea that we can do whatever the hell we want, that we’re here now and we’re Grounders too. At least try one time.”

“And you have a magic connection to the Grounders, O?” Raven shook her head, “You know, let’s find the nearest village and make peace, love and chicken grease, it’s got to work, right?”

“Now you’re making fun of me.” Octavia shook her head, clenching her jaw to hide her hurt. “I thought the two of you were more practical or at the very least opportunistic.” She shook her head in disappointment. “River’s down this way.” Raven and Clarke shared a frown looking at Octavia’s retreating form. They followed soon after.

The afternoon sun glared overhead as they reached a slow flowing, glittering river cutting though the earth. “Red algae,” Clarke nodded to the shallow water lapping lazily at the rocks, “I remember Wells talking about it.”

Octavia put a hand on the blonde’s bicep with a sad expression. "He was always so nice to me, he didn't deserve what happened to him." She withdrew her hand, taking a look around the area.

Raven palmed the bag at her waist, pulling it into her with a frown as she began to wander into the area. “Guys, a campfire. It’s burned out.”

“It’s okay, I think. Whoever was here, probably moved on, right?” Clarke asked from the waterside turning to Octavia for confirmation.

“Maybe,” she said shortly, rooted in her position, her eyes scanning the trees for any threats. She turned to her companions to see them transfixed by the thick foliage at their rear as well. “Unless they’re someone who’s territorial.”

“Do you feel like we’re being watched by something?” Clarke whispered quietly as she reached behind her to palm the firearm at her waist band and closed the distance between her and Octavia. The blonde noticed the younger brunette move between her and Raven as she examined the thick woods on the opposite edge of the river with a scowl.  
  
“It’s probably nothing, just us being paranoid. I am not hearing things,” Raven concluded uneasily. “Let’s just get the algae and move out. Shit, I wish I brought a little bit more protection with me.” The Latina shook her head. "Something with a little more kick than a pistol, if you catch my drift."

Octavia further examined the trees that surrounded the area. “We can also take some of the bark from these trees too, right?” Clarke frowned at the brunette in question. “What? I read a lot of Bellamy’s school books when I was bored.” She crossed her arms noncommittally. “Wasn’t there like a pain killer in the bark of some trees?”

“Aside from mythology and folklore?” The blonde turned a small smile to the standoffish girl, attempting to extend an olive branch. “We can always try it,” Clarke shrugged, “go ahead and grab some. We should also keep an eye out for some bunkers we haven’t been to yet.”

∞∞∞

Lincoln always loved the feeling of the wind caressing his wings as he took flight and the heat of the sun on his back. The discolored patches of feathers on his chest, head, wings and torso gleamed against the rays. His keen eyes could see most of the woods below. His heart swelled as he saw Octavia traveling with her friends by the riverside half a mile down wind. He was glad she was taking his lessons to heart. Her ability to adapt was going to keep her alive.

He beat his wings against the cool morning breeze before slowly making his descent to the ground. He perched on the branch of a proud red oak tree. He spied a set of clothes neatly set out on a rock in the clearing.

He had grown used to the stretch of skin and bone cracking to accommodate the size of his body. It was a distant memory, the agony of his first shift was indescribable. When he opened his brown eyes from his position in the trees, he could see movement in the northern section of the clearing.

An impassive and rather humorless blonde with dispassionate hazel eyes entered the area, and spied the clothes on the rock. “Linkon, yu beda teik klin yu hir kom taim.” The woman drawled as she folded her arms over her chest, her scowl settling further on her brow. “Tel ai op eithing. Chit yu get em in?”

Lincoln began to climb down from the trees, ignoring the uncomfortable press of bark against his bare skin. As he reached the bottom of the tree he dropped to the earth gracefully and began to dress quickly. “Skaikru chich op chansla ‘Dian Sidni’. Ai fig’son emo nou wich em in. Daun fou, goufa kom Skaikru don ge jomp em op kom pastoka kom noukru.” Lincoln mulled over any other relevant information to share. "Noukru ste mafta trei kom Ingranroma an bida kamp raun kom Otan Xandri."

The woman nodded her head sharply once before adjusting her black wrist band. “Hani Skaion kik raun?”

Lincoln closed his eyes to remember his records, “Bida. Sendi sen,” he scratched his cheek. “Onya, choumouda yu gaf Skaion wan op?” He asked directly with a furrowed brow. He refused to wither under the impassive gaze of his unit leader.

“Ai nou gaf. Na nau. Nou hedon kom emo sonraun op...Oso kru gaf emo sonraun op kos Skaikru veidas, Linkon,” Anya stated almost tenderly, though the reason was relatively obvious. “Fig’ison noseim gon fleimstika yu op natrona.” The blonde shook her head slightly. Her head turned slightly to as though she was listening to something far off. “Emo medo thonken, sha? Nou teik em keriyon kom shifta?" Lincoln shook his head, confirming her suspicion. "Ste iffy." She muttered to herself. "Emo get em shifta keriyon in?”

Lincoln shook his head, his ears picked up the sound that caught the unit leader’s attention so suddenly. “Nou, Onya. Ai nou na ge homplei daun.” His sharp eyes followed the blonde who turned her back to him and quickly moved towards the treeline, kicking her foot onto the thick trunk and hoisting herself into the tree. He followed her into the same post. “Skaikru don teik em bilaik goufa kom pauna ena trigeda.” He commented off offhandedly.

Anya barked a short, sudden laugh at her scout’s observation. “Ait. Emo sen leyos,” Anya considered as she pointed her sharp nose to the air. “An ai gaf get em in chit wan pastoka fig’ison ste sen in.”

They cut their hushed whispers short as they sky people came into the clearing. To the natives in the trees it appeared as though they were keeping their heads down and attempting to quiet their footsteps, but fell short in that respect. By a long shot. The boy at the head of the group kept his rifle in front of him, his fingers re gripping the points of contact against the hard barrel. His dark eyes darted back and forth. Anya could smell the sweat and oil collecting in the boy’s dark, unkempt brown hair. He held a clenched fist into the air. “You said they came out this way,” his tone was dry.

“They did, Bell.” A second boy, a lighter footed male stepped up to the man’s side. His floppy light brown hair flowing around his unblemished tanned skin. “The tracks led here.” If the boy was a tracker, it was no wonder why he was lighter on his feet then the rest of their boorish crew. “They said they were out this way finding some medicine. People are starting to get sick now.”

The boy, Bellamy, clenched his teeth. “And our resident medic decided that it would be best to go off and do it herself?” He was already informed by Raven, but he still was baffled at the choice. “There’s blood coming from their eyes, you know.”

“Easy Bell,” the kind faced female placated the older boy. “Clarke showed me, Murphy, Finn and two others how to take care of sick people before she left, in case any more cases popped up while she was away. You can’t think everyone is going to stay in camp all the time, right? And Murphy’s got it handled.”

“Harper, the fact that she thought Murphy would be a good fit for a head nurse is concerning enough.” Bellamy retorted sourly.

Anya leaned over to Lincoln. “Emo telon kom ‘medic’ an 'nurse' ste oso telon kom ‘fisa’, sha?” Lincoln nodded his confirmation.

“He’s actually helpful when you give him something to do. He doesn’t mind contributing.” Finn agreed.  
  
“I think he’s a bit hurt from your willingness to...hang him, you know?” Harper spoke softly, “so he might lash out from time to time. It could be his way of processing things. Just give him time, and maybe entrust him to do some things. Baby steps, you know?”

“How do you do that?” Bellamy asked under his breath, he shook his head dismissing Harper’s question of what he said, before clearing his throat. “It was nothing, let’s keep looking. I have a bad feeling.” The trio moved through the clearing headed towards the riverside.

“Ai ste kamp raun yu wichnes, Linkon. Heda don hedon teik Tristan gona kamp raun emo fai mayal treibloka kom Skaigoufa stegedon. Em gona nou kamp raun en zon. Oso nou fop op. Kep em we kom treibloka sou yu gada ste kik raun.”A sly smirk cracked the older woman’s features and she nudged him slightly. She looked more sinister when she smiled to him.

“Sha, Onya.” The woman dropped from the trees and began moving south from their meeting place. A frown creased his brows. Was she plotting something? He had always viewed his unit leader as a force of nature, almost like a grand inquisitor of the ancient world. What was going on with the sudden change of tone?

He too dropped from the tree and began a trek in the direction Bellamy, Finn and Harper went. He knew she and Tristan never got along much, always turning their orders into some kind of competition. Tristan was fiercely loyal to Heda, as was Anya, but she saw a way of doing things that Tristan did not. And the man thought her methods too convoluted and unorthodox for his tastes because they took too long. Even though the loose ends were tied up almost immediately, and with little to no political repercussions. Tristan was more like a hammer, where Anya was a keen blade.

If the information of Heda’s blockade was was finally extrapolated down the ranks to him, it had already gone into effect. Word always took too long to travel to the foot soldiers and scouts at times. Since it was supposed to be Tristan communicating with Anya, he probably waited a few days at minimum to share the information of his presence to try and gain Heda’s favor by making Anya seem incompetent. Ever the loyal wolf to do anything to get a pat on the head.

A thought dawned on him. Did Heda do this on purpose? Was it the intention of hers to keep them both distracted by one another? The motivations were almost always unclear but Heda never did anything without purpose. If she wanted the Skaikru to be so easily wiped out she would have sent Indra to work with Anya. Those two worked as well as fire and straw.

He centered his breathing to clear his thoughts. His mind could only seem to focus on what his soul bond told him what seemed like a lifetime ago. That Anya was very motherly to those she cared for. He never saw it before, and the soft, almost playful hazel eyes were something he couldn’t un see. It was unsettling to him. Especially that she seemed to know about his rendezvous with Octavia. He knew she was gathering her own information in and around their camp, but he was always discreet. Did the girl mark him in some way? Was there blemishes on his neck? Did her scent cover his skin like a silken blanket?

He jogged down a path untraveled by the patrolling sky people that would cut the time to get to Octavia down. He stopped momentarily to grasp a white flower and cut it from the stem before continuing his journey. He stopped upon seeing the brunette speaking quickly with her peers, he peeked his head from the brush to get the young woman’s attention. Her eyes recognized him and quickly turned back to her conversation with the others. He slid the flower into the cracked tree bark before moving to a more covered position.

From his bird’s eye view of the waterfront, he observed Octavia move over to the flower and pinch the stem between her thumb and forefinger and spin the petal with a distracted smile on her face. She knew to meet him at their hideaway a few miles from the border of Ouskejon. Tristan was not so foolish to put a garrison near the border of another clan as they would see it as an aggression of Trigeda. Heda would have needed to send a missive to their leader to let them know it was for containment purposes, not born of hostility. That would have taken longer than Tristan to inform Anya of the extra garrison. Thankfully, the waterfront was still two miles within the containment zone.

Movement from across the river drew the scout hawk’s eyes. Warriors with skull fragment masks prowled through the foliage, stalking the three women at the bank. Why were they within the zone?

His question was quickly answered as he saw a bow being knocked with an arrow. _Skrish._ He took no time to strip off his clothes, the painful cracking of his bones muted by the breeze within the trees. The mass of the discarded fabric rustled the foliage as they fell to the ground. Removing himself from his position, he took to the air and landed gracefully on the rock peeking through the water’s surface, facing the men in the woods. _Anya needs to know of this. She will not be pleased by this transgression._  
  
“Hey O, your boy Remy’s back.” Raven chimed from behind the bird. “Maybe we were being paranoid, right? You need to get a bell for him so we’re not jumping at nothing.”

“They’re in the trees! Run!” Bellamy shouted abruptly as he, Finn and Harper sprung from the trees, alerting the three girls who immediately ducked down to avoid the sudden covering fire. _How long were they there for?_ Clarke thought to herself.

Octavia felt her legs lock up, her muscles not responding in fear. True fear. Her breath caught. Her muscles barely responded, even with Raven's hand grasping her wrist tightly. She felt ill. Lincoln was training her, so why did she feel this way? Why was her confidence not bolstered as it should be?

"C'mon O, let's go!" Raven's voice and insistent pulling finally got her legs moving. The mechanic had a gun in her hands ready to fire. Maybe because the rest of them - the Skaikru - _her people_ were confident behind their firearms, and she had a knife on hand. It wasn't a throwing knife, so she couldn't fight long range. That was it. 

An arrow slid into the bark of the trees behind them innocuously, and thankfully startled off the mark.

Bellamy popped off three shots. One body rolled out of his hiding place, falling into the water lifelessly. His bow tumbled from his limp grasp, while the other two vacated their position. One Grounder cradled their arm to staunch the blood loss. Tree bark splintered and spewed from the missed shot that hit the thick trunk that was penetrated by the foreign metal. The two grounders fled, disappearing into the thick treeline. The elder Blake and Finn covered the four as they fled into the woods in the direction of their camp. They heard Bellamy and Finn following a short distance behind them, the skirmish cut short due to a lack of contenders.

The three with the raw medicinal supplies followed Harper heaving breaths of exertion. “Wait,” Octavia called as she stopped short. “There’s still something I need to do.”

The three other young women halted immediately as well, hearts still thudding against their rib cages with adrenaline coursing through their veins. “Octavia, no. They were going to kill us, there could be more out there!” Raven argued back. “We need to get back to camp now.”

Bellamy and Finn caught up with them breathing deeply to regain some semblance of equilibrium. "Octavia," Finn started, "please come back with us, I'm sure we'll all feel better knowing that we all made it out alive without having to bury someone."

“Then go,” the younger brunette stood her ground. “I need to go somewhere else first.”

“Raven, go back to camp with Harper and the guys. I’ll stay with Octavia and give her cover if she needs it. Just make sure you put the medical waste in the burn pile.” Clarke turned her attention to the Older Blake. "Don't worry Bell, I can cover O's back. You can trust me."

“Clarke, no, we have people who are bleeding from their eyes now. I don’t know if they’re going to die or not,” the fair skinned girl argued back. “I don’t know anything about medicine, Clarke, I was trained in agriculture. We need you back in camp.”

“If it’s a hemorrhagic fever, it needs to run its course. There is no treatment plan other than keeping the afflicted hydrated, since we can’t get blood transfusions at the moment. Just keep the cool towels on their foreheads and make sure you burn them. You got this Harper, I trust you.” Clarke encouraged the other girl. “Raven, give them the tree bark and see if it helps reduce their fever. Go, we’ve got this covered.”

Bellamy's jaws were clenching. He had never been put in the position where he had to entrust his sister's well being with another person. He never could trust anyone with the secret of his sister's existence on the Ark. He never considered to trust anyone if they weren't in camp. "If anything happens to her, Clarke..." He trailed off. He wasn't even sure if he was going to warn her with a threat, or overcome the lump of worry wedged into his throat. "Just...bring her back safely. I'm trusting you with her life."

The blonde nodded, "We'll be back after we're finished with whatever O has to do, and you're the first to know when we get back, fair?" The man nodded hesitantly.

“Are you sure, Clarke?” Octavia asked. The blonde nodded resolutely. “Fine. Let’s go, quickly.”

“Be careful going back.” Clarke nodded to the mechanic and agriculturalist and the boys as the six parted ways in two opposite directions.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigedasleng Translations:
> 
> Linkon, yu beda teik klin yu hir kom taim. - Lincoln, you should make sure you’re here on time.
> 
> Tel ai op eithing. Chit yu get em in? - Tell me everything. What do you know?
> 
> Skaikru chich op chansla ‘Dian Sidni’. Ai fig’son emo nou wich em in. Daun fou, goufa kom Skaikru don ge jomp em op kom pastoka kom noukru. - The sky people speak to Chancellor Diane Sydney. I think they don’t trust her. Before, the children of the sky people were attacked by wolves of the clan less.
> 
> Noukru ste mafta trei kom Ingranroma an bida kamp raun kom Otan Xandri - The Clan less are following on the path to the Plains and some are staying by Otan Xandri (Old Town Alexandria)
> 
> Hani Skaion kik raun? - How many sky people live?
> 
> Bida. Sendi sen, - Some. Seventy seven.
> 
> Onya, choumouda yu gaf Skaion wan op? - Anya, why do you want the sky people to die?
> 
> Ai nou gaf. Na nau. Nou hedon kom emo sonraun op...Oso kru gaf emo sonraun op kos Skaikru veidas kom osir, Linkon - I don’t want that, not now. There is no order for their lives. Our people want their life because the Sky people are invaders, Lincoln.
> 
> Fig’ison noseim gon fleimstika yu op natrona. - Thinking otherwise will brand you a traitor.
> 
> Emo medo thonken, sha? Nou teik emo keriyon kom shifta? - Their body is hollow, yes? They do not have the spirit of shifters? 
> 
> Ste ifi. - It's risky. 
> 
> Emo get em shifta keriyon in? - Do they know about the shifter’s spirit?
> 
> Nou, Onya. Ai nou na ge homplei daun. - No Anya, I was not hunted/tracked.
> 
> Skaikru don teik em bilaik goufa kom pauna ena trigeda. - Sky people move like a gorilla’s child through the woods.
> 
> Ait. Emo sen leyos. - Right. They smell funny.
> 
> An ai gaf get em in chit wan pastoka fig’ison ste sen in - And I want to know what a wolf thinks about the smell.
> 
> Emo telon kom ‘medic’ an 'nurse' ste oso telon kom ‘fisa’, sha? -Their word for ‘medic’ and 'nurse' is our term for healer, yes? 
> 
> Ai ste kamp raun yu wichnes, Linkon. Heda don hedon teik Tristan gona kamp raun emo fai mayal treibloka kom Skaigoufa stegedon. Oso nou fop op. Em gona nou kamp raun en zon Kep em we kom treibloka sou yu gada ste kik raun. - I stand by your belief/confidence, Lincoln. The commander ordered Tristan to move his warriors to a five mile blockade around the Sky children’s village. His warriors are not to be in the (containment) zone. We won’t make a mistake. Keep them away from the blockade so your girl keeps living.
> 
> Sha, Onya. - Yes, Anya
> 
> Ouskejon - Blue Cliff
> 
> Skrish - Shit
> 
> Links:
> 
> http://dedalvs.com/work/the-100/trigedasleng_master_dialogue.pdf  
> https://www.memrise.com/course/957902/trigedasleng/
> 
> Notes:
> 
> Anya's motives are a bit questionable, I know...but I'm starting to enjoy laying foundations to build her character (I think it's such a shame we didn't get to really see her true personality)...
> 
> I hope you enjoyed this chapter, as we begin to build and learn this new world. Feel free to drop a comment! Thank you for reading. Much love!
> 
> Until next time


	4. With Regards to Our Relations

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome back!
> 
> I just noticed I forgot to untick the box for end notes from Ch.1 (oops, still learning the site, I suppose (lol))
> 
> This chapter picks up immediately after the last one. Still a few bits of Trigedasleng in this chapter too!
> 
> Also with regard to locations, I figured it was super weird that in s1e1, Clarke mentions it's a 20mi walk to Mount weather, and her map indicated they landed s/sw, so it's a good 7.5hr hike. In s2e1, Abby wrote on the ship that the Ark landed 22km (13.6ish miles) s/sw. Carl Emerson hinted that Mount Weather was about an 8hr hike from Camp Jaha when Clarke read the oxygen tank meter on his suit, and told him to do it in 6. I have a few gripes about this whole scenario: one - I don't understand why we have to mix metrics between miles and kilometers (Just stick to one, please and thank you [though metric is more accurate than imperial, and as a doctor, Abby would use the metric values]), and two, logistically it makes no fucking sense to me. 
> 
> Sorry for the rant, I'll get to the point. In this story, the drop ship landed outside of White Post, VA, 15 miles from Mount Weather (5h,24m walk due east), and the route makes them need to cross a river. Arkadia will be founded near Front Royal, Va, 24 miles from Mount Weather (7h,58m walk North by North east, and 13 Miles from the drop ship (4h,15m walk North by North east), just for continuity and that the values still remain the same (plus or minus a few minutes because Google maps, and a traveling in a straight line makes life easier).

Clarke panted as she kept pace with the spry brunette as they moved through the woods in the afternoon light. The blonde wondered briefly about the white flower’s stem that Octavia clenched in her fist as she hurdled the gnarled roots and moss covered logs littering the forest floor. It was fortunate that the blonde was paying attention to the young woman’s path as she knew where to move so she didn’t end up taking a spill, falling face first in the lush overgrowth. “Octavia,” she panted, “slow down a bit.”

Octavia was heaving breaths herself to replace the oxygen in her lungs. It seemed no matter how much she trained with her Grounder scout, her endurance was seeming to always be lacking, though in relation to her company, it was evident it was leagues better. Acquiescing to the request, her strides slowed slightly so the blonde was able to close the distance slowly parting them. “It’s just up this path here.” She pointed to the hidden trail up the gentle incline. “It’s not likely we were followed.” She was controlling her breathing, so much so it wouldn’t look like she was close to collapsing.

“What do you mean, Octavia?” Clarke asked for clarification. At this rate, she wouldn’t be surprised if these Grounders had hideouts inside the trees. “They could attack us at any time. They camouflage themselves up in the canopy. I think they’re easily capable of following us.”

“What I mean is let’s keep moving. I’ll explain later.”

Sapphire eyes rolled as Clarke sighed in exasperation. “What is it that you need to do, anyway?” She put her hands onto the ground and trees to help her climb the slope, as her legs began to feel numb, close to muscle failure. How her companion seemed so put together was beyond her, with only sweat dripping down the back of her neck and down her hair. Clarke felt like she was dying.

They were both happy to ease their pace to regain their faculties. The brunette moved to the base of a thick oak tree, firmly planted in the ground, with it’s broad root system poking through the earth. Octavia grasped the mossy covered earth and pulled it up. It easily released itself from the forest floor, much to Clarke’s surprise. It appeared to be as thick as plywood that was disguised as an extension of a ground, much like the old soldiers of the old world's Armed forces videos that featured gillie suits that her dad watched on his spare time, aside from the reruns of the soccer matches.

Octavia motioned her forward with a roll of her hand telling her to enter the dark crevice. The blonde noticed her partner place the white flower between the split bark of the tree trunk conspicuously before she hesitantly dropped down below the earth’s surface and crept down the short hall that opened up into the tree trunk itself. She shook her head. She was being sarcastic about living inside the trees earlier.

The thudding of the plywood covering the entrance heralded Octavia’s movement into the hidden abode. “Octavia, what is this?” She finally decided to ask with the mulling questions brewing in her mind, that was the one verbalized.

“It’s a hideout.” She shrugged.

Clarke deadpanned, “I can see that. What are we doing here?”

“We are going to get information on what the hell just happened. Just sit over there and wait...please Clarke.” She gestured to the sturdy stool in a small recess besides the entry. “And whatever you do, don’t move until I introduce you.”  
  
“Introduce me to what?” Too many questions tore through her mind like a cyclone.

“This is where I go when I sneak out of camp.” She said instead of answering Clarke's question, and moved over to the small fire pit and began to toss kindling down before removing her dagger from its sheath at the back of her waistband. She struck a rock against the steel of the blade. The kindling began to smoke as embers glowed in the straw and wood chips. She blew gently onto the pit as a small flame lit. She placed thin branches neatly around the kindling so they would eventually catch when the flame grew.

She then moved across the soft dirt inside the tree and slid open a small port in the trunk of the tree. What was the most strange to Clarke was the fact that Octavia opened a bag on the side of the folded furs adjacent to the fire pit and removed neatly folded clothing. She set them on a small shelf near the entry to the hideaway. They appeared to be too large to fit either of them. What were they for? Was someone meeting them?

If she didn’t know any better, she would have thought a gust of wind enter the crevice they were camped in.

“Hodness,” A man’s voice entered the small space in a relieved whisper, Clarke felt herself tense. Octavia’s face lit up into a fond smile that she had when she first picked up the white flower by the riverside. The broad man’s head snapped to the right when he heard an unexpected shift.

Clarke’s eyes widened, she couldn’t decide weather to look away to preserve the tanned man’s modesty, or to keep an eye on him because he was quite obviously a Grounder with his strong, statuesque features, scars and tattoos spread across his skin. A blush found its way across her cheeks in a wildfire of heat. Clarke decided to look at Octavia to keep the very naked man’s torso and face in her peripheral vision. “Lincoln, clothes are on the shelf,” she heard Octavia say, unabashedly looking at the man.

She heard rustling of clothing. She could feel the man’s untrusting eyes boring into her frame. “Lincoln, this is Clarke. Clarke, this is Lincoln.” After a moment’s hesitation, Octavia huffed. “She’s okay, niron. I just haven’t been able to tell her about anything yet.”

Clarke stood from her seat with narrowed eyes, her comfort resettling as much as it could, now that he was fully clothed. “Octavia, his people tried killing us.”

“And he’s been busting his ass, risking everything trying to help us,” Octavia countered. “Clarke, there are good people down here, like I’ve been trying to tell you. He’s the reason I know so much about the woods. He saved my life many times now.”

Clarke frowned at the blazing glare of the younger Blake. She directed her gaze back to the impassive man with dark brown eyes. “Is there even a chance to make peace between our people?” She asked.

“Your people have acted in self defense, so no lives were lost unnecessarily as of yet, so yes, there is a chance of it.” Lincoln said after a moment’s hesitation. He looked to the brunette, his eyes softening fondly. “I am glad you are safe. There is something I need to tell you.” He returned his attention to the blonde. “I don’t have the power to make peace between us, but I can talk to my unit leader who has been charged with observing your people.”

“The one that’s ‘hostile but effective’?” Octavia asked with raised eyebrows. “Are you sure that’s going to work?”

“I believe she has invested interest in your people for some reason. It was...strange to see when I met her earlier. She has told me that without an order from Heda, your people will not be attacked on her command.”

“If that’s the case, who attacked us?” Clarke demanded.

“Another unit leader has been charged by Heda to enforce a five mile border around your people, backed by a kill order. However, only scouts are able to move throughout the zone. He violated his orders when his warriors engaged.” He answered succinctly. “Your people are not at fault for defending yourselves in conflict.”

“Why didn’t you tell me that there was a death zone around us?” Octavia’s eyes shone in hurt. 

“I did not know until this morning, when I met with my unit leader. The threat only comes into place if your people exceed the blockade - there's no other way to enforce it otherwise.” Lincoln shook his head. “The general at the perimeter does not work well with my superior, and most likely didn’t inform her until yesterday. She was told of the violation before I came to find you.”

“Well, a lack of communication seems to be a common factor between our people it looks like,” Clarke muttered to herself. “But that doesn’t help the fact that one of my people was almost killed and was strung up for live bait.” She glared at the Grounder.

“See, Clarke, we already have something in common,” Octavia shot a look to the co leader of the delinquents.

“I know nothing about that,” he said honestly. “I will speak with my superior to see what that was about, though it seems like it could be a motive for Noukru. Ai fig’ison wan gona don gaf frag yu skat op.” His eyebrows pinched in thought.

Clarke frowned at the strange chatter of the native tongue, trying to make sense of the foreign sounds. Octavia crossed her arms in thought. “Oso don...mafta trei...kom...Maun-de.” she said haltingly in the same language. Clarke noticed the fond closed lipped smile threatening to stretch onto the man’s face. She almost missed the man correcting her by saying ‘oso ste’. She nodded her head. “You did say they were moving around looking for a food source for winter,” the brunette pondered.

“What is a Noukru? What was that you said?” Clarke asked, confusion coating her words as she probed the two for information.

“They are the clan less,” Lincoln answered, “they are not my people.”

“There is a possibility that one of the warriors did actually spear Jasper and leave him at the base of Mount Weather,” Octavia informed Clarke who closed her eyes to process the information.

“We didn’t know anyone was down here,” the blonde said firmly.

“I know,” Lincoln said in understanding. “Many of my people feel threatened by a potential hostile invasion, so Heda ordered us to observe you shortly after you landed to determine the threat level.”

“So now we have to contend with warriors who are violating this...Heda - whatever that is -order on top of a sickness that makes everyone bleed.” She sighed. “I’m guessing a Heda is a leader of some kind?” Clarke asked the man who nodded in confirmation.

“Heda means Commander. Heda is the leader of my people.” Lincoln’s brow furrowed. “Your people have taken to the blood fever?” Lincoln moved around Octavia to rummage through the bag near the bed roll that the brunette gathered his clothes. He pulled a red leather bound journal and began examining the contents within as he flipped through the pages. “Mix powdered jobi nuts with red algae and dilute it with water. Stir it to make a thick liquid - have those afflicted or exposed drink it.”

“Jobi nuts?” Clarke asked “what are those?”

“The nuts that Jasper always finds near the camp. Wait those can be used as medicine?” The man nodded.

“It will ease the symptoms and reduce their fever, though it may induce slight hallucinations." He closed the book and replaced it. "You should return to your people.” Clarke couldn’t remember the surly ‘great’ that fell from her lips at the idea of a lot of hallucinating peers, it was bad enough when they were drunk. He turned back to Octavia. “Use the path that I first showed you. You won’t run into any scout patrols that way, as it is my ordered post. Gothru klir.”

If Clarke didn’t know any better, it seemed like the man wanted to reach out and touch the young woman to her left. “Come on, Clarke, let’s get moving. Bell is going to have an aneurysm if we aren’t back by nightfall.”

“It...thank you, Lincoln,” the blonde nodded to the Grounder standing off to the side. She wanted to say 'it was nice meeting you', as was what was polite, but decided against it. He returned her gesture with an impassive expression.

The two Skaikru girls made their way out of the grounder’s tree shack and crawled onto the surface before Octavia replaced the cover on the entrance. She removed the white flower and put it in her bag before turning back to Clarke who was staring at her with a strange expression. “What just happened?” She asked the younger girl in disbelief.

“I have a magic connection with a Grounder,” she said simply, echoing Raven’s sarcastic comment from earlier that day. “And he’s the reason we’ve had good luck on our side after Jasper was attacked.”

“Good luck? You mean like Remy?” Clarke asked while rubbing the side of her temple as they walked. “They have pets...like how Raven adopted Ashes?”

Octavia tensed marginally, considering her answer. “Yeah, come to think of it, his people use hawks locate food sources, so that would be reasonable. Remy...might be over by the river snatching fish or something.” Octavia surmised quickly. “Lincoln lets him go about his business.” It's not a total lie, but a half truth she told herself, it would have to be good enough.

“So, is Remy the bird’s name, or is it something else?” Octavia had a question lingering in her gaze. “I’m asking because I’m journaling to keep my bearings of everything going on.”

“Does it matter?” Octavia turned her head slightly to look at the blonde beside her. She nodded her head slightly. “Lincoln just calls him lukout.” Upon seeing Clarke’s probing expression, Octavia continued her explanation. “It means friend, so his hawk really doesn’t have a name.” She sure as hell wasn’t going to spill the beans; she sometimes has a lapse of disbelief coursing through her mind questioning the rationality behind the innate ability in the indigenous people. “Just...keep this under wraps for now, please, Clarke? I don’t want to jeopardize his safety with his people...or with ours.”

“You’re right,” Clarke nodded again, “I think we need to play this carefully, especially now that we’re almost engaging in a war with them,” she paused briefly, “...Lincoln’s people.”

∞∞∞

To say Anya was pissed was putting matters gently. Her jaws clenched so tightly as she seethed she would be able to crush coal to diamonds as she approached the eastern garrison of Tristan’s warriors. “Move,” she ordered in Gonasleng, her voice colder than an Azgedan winter. The two warriors standing by at the edge of the encampment wisely moved out of the way of the scorned general.

Her hazel eyes scanned over the tents and the faces of the warriors. The clashing of blades indicated that some warriors trained off in the pits, others were tending to their weapons, and few were eating their afternoon meal. The specific party that held her interest was nowhere to be found. Her eyes darted from left to right. She noticed a warrior cradling his arm to his chest as a healer tended to his wounds. It smelled of blood, gunpowder, burned metal and flesh, as well as an underlying scent of cypress. Just by the scent alone she could determine the origin was from a Skayon’s firearm. It could very well be from one of the three members of the patrol who trounced through her and Lincoln's meeting area earlier. She turned to approach the warrior and the healer.

“...Skaion don jomp oso op kom kilnrona-de,” she heard the bald warrior say, his braided beard dripped with liquid from the mead he drank.

“You, where is Tristan?” She hissed at the wounded man. He nodded his head in the direction of the training pit at the far side of the camp. Without thanking the warrior, she stalked off, purpose in her steps, anger resonating with every beat of her heart. She slowed her breathing. Nothing would be accomplished if she decided to lash out at the man who was supposed to be helping _her_. Not the other way around. ' _This bastard believes himself the be all - end all solution to everything'._ She schooled her features to an impassive facade. She knew the mutt was going to try to make her submit (it never worked, much to his aggravation), and it was best to approach this particular alpha with a clear head. His pungent alpha stench coated the training grounds as he swung his heavy sword at his partner who was taking a beating from the tanned general.

She crossed her arms and leveled a heated glare at the man, allowing her agitated pheromones to coat the air to capture the man’s attention. His dark eyes flicked over to her before he held his hand up. “Hod op. Gouba yu raun an kigon yo granplei.” He nodded to the warriors in the pit. He set his sword against the post of the fence indicating the training ring before jumping the wooden barrier. “Seken,” he pointed to his blade, silently ordering his trainee to care for his blade. The young man hurried to the weapon before taking it in both hands and carrying it off.

The alpha man reached Anya’s position on the hill overseeing the training pits at his own leisure, his dark eyes glaring at the woman. “Tristan,” she grunted a greeting.

“Anya,” he returned, “is there not somewhere else you should be… or something else you should be sticking your feline nose in? Say, like the business of the Skaikru? Why are they not dead?”

“Because Heda has not ordered it. Or have you forgotten that part of the orders passed directly from her?” She said directly, cutting to the point of her being at the main blockade camp. “I do not answer to you, but your transgression of your orders will not please your master,” she hissed sarcastically. She knew Heda especially disapproved, albeit silently, whenever someone called the alpha woman another's master. That was something shared with Anya in private.

A snide smirk crossed the man’s lips. “Your master as well.” He scoffed. “I know not what you mean, I am enforcing a blockade backed by her kill order to the letter of my duties.”

“Then why were three of your warriors within the zone which Heda stated only my unit was allowed free passage through? Though, considering your duties, I must thank you for your prompt communication informing my warriors of your presence, you have made ours that much easier,” her words dripped in sarcasm.

“Again, I must say I do not know what you’re talking about. Fes’s fight has ended, and Cori had been wounded, by a Skayon, no less. They bear the same arms as Maunon, how are they any different? They are a danger to our people. You were informed of our garrison as soon as my warriors completed the blockade.”

“Why do I not believe that? This is not the first time I was uninformed of your orders until it suited you. Remember you work with me. Now, you did not answer my question, Tristan. The river where Fes’s body was found is within the area that the Skaikru may move about without enacting the kill order. The fact that you are unaware of your warrior’s whereabouts is evident of your ability to do your duty as a unit leader, is it not?”

The man surged forward into Anya’s personal space, unleashing his domineering stink, attempting to force her into submission. The blonde felt her hackles rise at the nape of her neck. She kept her gaze locked onto the alpha’s as she stood her ground with a clenched jaw. “Do not question my ability to lead my warriors. I only answer to Heda,” he growled.

“Very well then. If it pleases you, we will take this directly to Polis and have Heda sort this out among the duties that would crush any other soul that she must attend to on a normal basis. I am sure she wouldn’t mind.” He held an affronted gaze. Anya pressed further. “I only suggest this because you seem to forget yourself.” Her eyes darkened considerably in irritation. “You are due in the next week to send a status report, as am I.” Anya shot the man a sly look. “What I am curious about is what similarities will appear within those reports.”

“Are you insinuating something?” The darker skinned man crossed his arms over his barrel like chest. He shook his head. “If you are so bold as to put a lens over my leadership capability, should you not be paying attention to your own scouts? Rumor says there is there is a traitor within your ranks.”

“You should not be so foolish to be so blindly following a rumor. It would almost be like chasing your own tail without evidence.”

“Derik mentioned that your scout reeked of a Skaigada, even jumped to their protection. I am trusting of his word, as he always speaks true.”

“Did you not stop to think that Linkon smells of Skaikru because of his constant proximity to their camp? He was also informed of the order of the blockade, and the fact that your warriors were not to be inside the containment area. He stopped them because he knew they were moving against their orders. That is, of course, unless you ordered otherwise.”

“We are speaking in circles, Anya.” The man waved his hand dismissively. “You are wasting your energy fixating on a question that has already been answered. It is you who is failing in your duty to your people. If you are finding yourself incapable, I will gladly step in.”

“You will follow your orders from Heda, as will I. And if she deems it necessary to kill them, so be it. Until that order is given, the Skaion will remain breathing, unless of course, they violate the blockade. When that happens, by all means, sate your blood lust. I care not.” She waved her hand dismissively. “We’re done here. Be sure you are aware of your warriors whereabouts. Should they decide to enter the area of my scout’s operations and jeopardize their lives unnecessarily, they will be returned with a broken foot, and then I will be coming for your throat. Do we have an understanding?”

Tristan’s jaw clenched as his scowl deepened. Murder flashed through his eyes as the feline woman glared at him. “Crystal. Though your weak threats do you no favor.”

A scoff passed Anya’s lips as she turned on her heel. “And your weak attitude yields the same. Do bear in mind this conversation.” Her footsteps ghosted across the grass as she stalked up the hill. It took her no time to cross the encampment. She nodded to the warriors on duty as she passed them before disappearing into the forest.

∞∞∞

As soon as Clarke and Octavia crossed the threshold of the Drop Ship encampment by nightfall, they could immediately see the stress fall from Bellamy’s shoulders as relief settled on his face. He smiled at Octavia as he moved to greet them. He nodded appreciatively to Clarke. “I’m glad you’re both back safe. I think your nurses got their hands full in the drop ship.” He gestured with his thumb over his shoulder in the direction of the eye sore hunk of metal at the center of their camp.

“Okay. I got it. O can you get me some of those nuts that -” Octavia shot the blonde a look of warning. “-we have in our provisions. I think I have an idea. I’ll be in there.” She nodded in the temporary quarantine area.

“Sure,” the brunette nodded and bounded off to the provision pile.

Bellamy dismissed the strange motives behind Clarke’s idea and moved with the blonde, “I want to thank you for making sure she’s safe,” he placed a hand on her shoulder.

“No worries,” she shrugged slightly. “I know it was a difficult task to trust someone else to do. You know you can place your trust in us, right? All of us here. We shouldn’t be divided by class. There are no elites or working class among us. We all pull our fair share. You can trust any one of us to have your back. I do.” She turned her soft gaze to him.

“No classicism dividing survivors, huh, Princess?” He smirked.

Clarke rolled her eyes at the nickname, “don’t call me that,” she nearly groaned. “You should talk to Octavia, trust her to be able to hold her own out there...she’s got more than luck watching her back.” She said cryptically.

“The day that I stop worrying about her is the day Kane stops doing things exactly by the book,” the young man chuckled ironically.

Clarke huffed a bitter laugh at the comment, “Stranger things have happened, haven’t they?” She leaned in conspiratorially, “a bunch of delinquents falling from the sky…”

“Murphy is a caretaker…” Bellamy added with a slight smirk.

“You don’t take every moment to be a jerk,” Clarke pushed her knuckles against his arm. She scoffed at the disgruntled frown that pulled at his face at the comment. “You can’t disagree with me on that one.”

The dark haired man shook his head. “Speaking of trust and 'jerks': what happens when Chancellor Sydney drops the Ark on our head?”

“I think that’s a problem for future us to handle we have enough going on already. But I think the majority of us should stay here, while the rest travel to the Ark to figure out the status of our citizenship. If she’s going to exonerate us like Jaha promised.”

“Trading one suicide mission for another? That’s bold of you.”

“What can I say? I must be a glutton for punishment,” she huffed as she parted the thick nylon tent flap covering the entryway of the ship. A frown pulled at her lips. Harper and Murphy were showing signs of sickness due to their prolonged exposure. Finn was moving the damp cloths from the burn pile to the fireside sluggishly. The other delinquents she assigned to help Murphy were on bed rest, haven taken ill themselves.

Clarke grasped the bottle of moonshine at the makeshift supply counter before pouring it over her hands and wiping the residual liquid off. “Can you get me something steady and flat?” She asked her co leader as she grasped a spare knife and disinfecting it with the high proofed hooch.

Bellamy returned with a flexible piece of metal that broke off during their landing that was shoved into a corner and forgotten about long ago. “Will this work?”

She nodded. It was subject to be disinfected as well. She removed her bag from her shoulder and grasped the store of red algae and began cutting it up, separating the stems from the weedy leaves. She wished that Grounder, Lincoln, had told her how better to prepare the mixture, rather than essentially saying ‘these are the ingredients, figure it out’. Was it supposed to be boiled? Her mind was still ablaze about the introduction still. She actually met a Grounder who was not inclined to strike first and string her corpse up from the trees. Octavia said he saved her multiple times. When was she injured? She still had a few scrapes on the side of her face, long scabbed over. Why was he so inclined to help when he had no reason to? The younger Blake was right in saying they were invaders in all technicality, even with their ignorance to the people already living here. There were just too many variables. She rolled her eyes. ' _Great, now I’m starting to sound like my mother.'_

Octavia entered with a sack full of the jobi nuts Lincoln mentioned were supposed to go into this Grounder concoction. She removed the shell protecting the nut and crushed them into bits on the flexible metal. Piece by piece, until she had a fine powder. Octavia filled a pail with their collected river water and filled the container a quarter way up. Clarke deposited the crushed nuts and algae into the water and began to stir it with a long piece of cleaned metal. It just looked dirty and wasn’t the thick consistency the man had said it was supposed to be.

“I think you have to have it over a steady flame.” Octavia whispered into Clarke’s ear. “Lincoln always boils things.”

Clarke felt herself nodding before standing and taking the pail outside to the fire pit. Octavia placed one of her pre-made spits over it and attached a metal hook over the thick branch. She nodded to Clarke before the blonde put the mixture over the open flame. She stirred it until it was brought to a boil. The algae began breaking up and the light brown powder of the jobi nuts circulated the liquid as it began to bubble and roll with the temperature of the water.

When Clarke began to feel the Grounder medicine was harder to stir, she deemed it done. She took the cloth thrown over her shoulder and removed the pail from the flame and carefully carried it into the drop ship. “Murphy, Harper, come here.” She waved them over as she placed the ground. “I want you to drink a little of this.”

“And what is that supposed to be?” Murphy asked suspiciously.

“Medicine. I hope," she muttered. "It’ll help you fight off this fever.” The blonde set out two small servings that the two downed, and immediately gagged on.

“Jesus! That tastes like the bottom of Jasper’s foot,” the sardonic delinquent coughed. Harper chased it with a swig of moonshine wordlessly. The burn of the alcohol must have replaced the foul taste. “Give me some of that.” The young man took a swig as well.

"You make a habit of tasting Jasper's feet?" Harper asked with a slight grin after swallowing the alcohol. She ignored the boy growl, telling her to 'shut up'.

“Make sure everyone drinks it.” Clarke said as she stood and began doling out cups of the viscous liquid. The three made their rounds, ensuring each took their portion. Most began complaining about the taste, cringing, momentarily distracted from the pain of the sickness. Clarke brushed the hair from her face. “Down the hatch,” she took a portion herself and fought the instinct to spit it back out.

Moonshine would have been a better alternative to sample, without a doubt.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigedasleng Translations:
> 
> Hodness/Niron - loved one
> 
> Ai fig’ison wan gona don gaf frag yu skat op. - I think a warrior wanted (intended) to kill your boy.
> 
> Oso don...mafta trei...kom...Maun-de. - We (were) following the path of the Mountain.
> 
> Gothru klir. - Safe passage/travels
> 
> Gonasleng - English/Warrior language
> 
> ...Skaion don jomp oso op kom kilnrona-de. - ...Sky person attacked us at the river.
> 
> Hod op. Gouba tu raun an kigon yo granplei. - Stop. Pair off and continue your training.
> 
> Seken - second
> 
> Notes:
> 
> Well, I do hope you enjoyed this chapter. Thank you for reading! Have any thoughts? Feel free to drop me a comment below.
> 
> Until next time!


	5. When Morality is Called into Question

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hey all, welcome back!
> 
> Just as a disclaimer there is another (minor) character death as well as torture in this chapter described in a little more detail than just falling dead into a river. Mentions of dismemberment, also a bit of torture that mirrors S1e7 'Contents Under Pressure'.
> 
> Enjoy!

Relief spread through the delinquent’s camp as the rounds horrendous tasting medicine alleviated their symptoms over the course of two days. One death of everyone who was sick was sad, but still better than the alternative. Connor was buried out back with the rest of them.

Wherever Clarke learned to pull that miracle off was hardly questioned, the end of the torment was all they really cared for. Wherever they contracted the disease from was a question most wanted answered. That morning, Raven mentioned the belief that since they come from such a sterile living environment, their bodies were susceptible to any foreign agent on the ground. Upon Clarke’s confirmation, the mechanic proudly stuck her middle finger up to the nay saying delinquents she was arguing with. She triumphantly proclaimed: ‘See, I can to this crap too! Jack of all trades, bitches!’

For the young, female leader, it was pleasant to see that any potential hostile activity seemed to quiet. Every time she looked to the trees and saw Lincoln’s bird perched upon the coarse wood, she could only imagine that the man was not too far away, She could almost feel his soulful eyes observing every movement she and her peers made within the camp, though the animal was absent today. It really was something to be in on a secret, she just couldn't decide if it was more pleasant or frustrating. Never mind keeping it from one of the fast friends she's made on the ground.

The fact that Octavia had a contact like that was still throwing her for a loop, the young Blake’s ability to be so trusting in someone she could have only known for three weeks tops was astounding. Everyone had a motive for doing something, the question that stood out in the forefront of her mind was what his was. The only genuinely ‘nice guy’ she had ever known aside from her dad was Wells, and even he let her hate him, motivated by the hope that there wouldn’t be a schism in her relationship with her mother. He really was so altruistic.

Octavia had even stuck to camp in the last couple days. The disconnect that she didn’t even know that some of her people had taken ill had driven her to stay and speak with them, asking about their well being. Bellamy had taken her aside about an hour ago by her guess, hopefully to speak with her about his underlying issues concerning her safety. She could only plug the girl’s self reliance with her brother so much. The rest was up to her.

She almost missed the depression in the cushioned fabric she was sitting on as she sketched over a few additional features of Remy from her memory, the likeness of the hawk’s keen eyes looking back at her from her journal. She remembered the tattoos lining Lincoln’s chest and detailed the thick lines in the upper right hand corner of the page. She was no fool, she knew anyone had a capability to be nosy and could easily thumb through her notes while she wasn’t looking. She made sure to keep her word to Octavia as her bond about the secrecy regarding whatever relationship she had with the Grounder. Looking to her left, her heart nearly stopped. Ashes sat beside her observing the book in her lap. She almost appeared domesticated, docile even. It barely eased her anxiety surrounding the small creature. “I guess you are kind of cute…for a demon,” she spoke to the feline whose ear twitched, but she largely ignored her.

Clarke looked up to see the owner of the miniature hell spawn entering the camp with her fists full of the orange reflective flags that marked her fabricated landmines, under the impression that the gunners and scavenger parties memorized their location so that they weren’t cleaning up a sticky, bloody mess just outside their camp. The flimsy metal clattered against each other in mid air as the Latina tossed them down onto the ground before slumping onto the seat next to the blonde and her cat. Absentmindedly, Raven placed a gentle hand over the kitten’s head and rubbed behind her ears. “So,” she started, not looking at the blonde, “I gotta ask: where did you come up with the idea that those trippy nuts would help the fever? Do you know how many times I told homeboy over there about his beauty status in the broom closet?” She nodded to Mbege, the slender gunner standing vigilant at the gate.

“Guess work, really.” Clarke shrugged. “Don’t tell me you didn’t enjoy being one of the only sober ones. You have a lot of bargaining chips in your pocket now. You have about seventy percent of camp who owes you one.”

“That’s how we do when we’re negotiating on the black market,” the mechanic shot the blonde a grin. The small feline observed the brunette before sliding her hazel eyes shut at the pleasing touch. “If you didn’t have dirt on someone, or a product Nygel needed, you were SOL and on the block to get floated. She be the definition of high stakes negotiation.”

“The culinary tech ran a black market?” Clarke asked in surprise. “I didn’t know that.”

“Oh yeah, it’s always the one you least expect. And she’s shrewd as all hell, an asshole to boot” she huffed a short laugh. “It was like pulling teeth to get a pressure regulator to complete my unauthorized escape pod repair to get down here. She wanted me to sell myself to the chief of Electrical for it. Your mom stole morphine from her inventory to get the part for me.” She didn’t miss the tense pull of the younger Griffin’s lips at the mention of her mother. Raven didn’t comment on it. “Anyway, I had to work with the Chief, once upon a time, and believe me: he’s a slob on his best days. Thanks, but no thanks, I’d sooner sleep with my boss-dad.” The mechanic shook her head with a disgusted cringe at the thought of sleeping with Sinclair. “We don’t have any more misadventures planned to get some other thing that we’re low on, do we? I don’t think my blood pressure came down from the last time.”

“Are you asking me to check? Or are you just being dramatic?”

“Coming from the princess herself? You wound me.” The mechanic nudged the blonde’s shoulder slightly, nodding at the book. “That’s pretty damn good. You could easily do design for architecture if you hang up the leader schtick. And I don’t think I’d mind working with you, either.”

“I didn’t ask for anyone to put me in this position, Raven. And I think there’s a lot more that goes into designing things, especially buildings.”

“Yet you’re good at it, leading I mean. You’ve got the art of delegation, and also not being afraid of doing things yourself. Better than Chancellor Jaha ever was. Rumor has it, he would always abstain from voting on things to keep his hands clean. And the only thing that qualifies you to make a blueprint is the ability to draw a straight line, really. Mechanics make the plan work.” Raven shrugged with a dismissive wave of her hand, “but, it’s whatever you want to do.”

“Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it. Unity day is right around the corner, and we may be under Chancellor Sydney’s rule soon. I’m not sure how I feel about that.”

“What do you mean?”  
  
“I want you to keep hush about this, but I think that she runs a blackmail operation,” Clarke whispered as she leaned slightly over, careful not to agitate the animal separating them. “I think she has people find out what someone desires, and they tell them to do something to receive it...like murder.”

Raven’s brows shot towards her hairline. “You were calling me dramatic?” Raven asked doubtfully, “that sounds like something out of some mob mastermind's head. I get that she’s bad news, but blackmail? Really?”

“I think anyone’s capable of anything at this point.” The blonde clenched her teeth. Hell, her mother was capable of having a hand in floating her husband and getting her daughter locked up for treason. Octavia was able to make a friend in a savage...a Grounder. “When the Ark does come down...I just worry what that means for us.”

“It might just mean we go back to living our normal lives,” Raven shrugged noncommittally. “Sinclair said that we have a storage of parts to make a garage and get some Rovers in operation, so traveling long distances won’t be too much of a problem. “Which reminds me: did you hear what happened to Mecca? A bomb went off.” Clarke scowled at the information.

“I honestly haven’t spoken to anyone that’s on the Ark at this point. I didn’t know that. I’m sorry, Raven. I know you had your team up there.”

“Thanks, but my team made it out alright. They were lucky to have been getting ready to do a spacewalk when it went up, and Sinclair had a respirator and O2 tank on. Everyone else...well.” The mechanic shook her head, dismissing the dark thoughts entering her mind. “Anyway, it wasted about five month's worth of oxygen, so Unity Day is cutting the landing deadline close, if you ask me. Sinclair has a team that goes in every now and then in suits to salvage whatever projects and parts they can. A lot of people lost their lives up there.”

“Did anyone find out who was responsible for detonating an explosive?” Raven shook her head.

“No. They just found residue of a makeshift explosive and a hole in the hull...and a lot of bodies,” the Latina answered. “The council is thinking it was a disgruntled worker.”

They didn’t hear Finn approach from behind, only acknowledging his presence when he placed his hands on their shoulders and leaned over them with a boyish grin dangerously in range of Ashes’s precise swatting range. “What’cha gossiping about.” The cat swirled around and took a warning swipe at him with a piercing hiss, displaying her sharp fangs. They boy recoiled before walking around them to squat off to the side of them, nearest to Raven.

“Your dick.” Raven smirked coyly. “Comparing notes about potential lays for our Princess, here. Limited options and all, y’know? Only the very best for royalty. Unless you want to stick around to hear girl talk.”

Finn frowned slightly before shaking his head, a small smirk pulling at his lips. “Nice, Rae,” he chuckled. “I heard you talking about the situation in Mecca, and the Ark. Are you homesick?”

Clarke made a sound of disagreement. “I think I like being here more.”  
  
“Me too, Princess,” the floppy haired boy cleared his throat. “What’s the plan for Unity Day? I asked Bell, and he’s got no idea.”

“We don’t have a plan in place yet,” Clarke reiterated again.

“Why did you ask us to lie and say he wasn’t in camp if anyone asked? It smells a little funky to me,” Finn commented.

“Because he doesn’t trust the Ark to lift the charges on us, and honestly, neither do I.”

“He has charges? I thought he was assigned to you guys? He's got the jacket.” Raven asked.

“If Jaha didn’t note it in an order or something, she could potentially execute him on the grounds of abandoning his post. He was explaining it to me, and that’s what I’m under the impression of.” Clarke bit her lip. If Bellamy didn’t fess up about the actual reason he was on the drop ship yet, she wasn’t going to say. That was his deal. She wasn’t about to make a habit of shouldering the responsibility of ensuring he would hold himself accountable for murder of all things. He needed to do that himself. She frowned. Though with her silence, wasn’t she almost aiding and abetting his crime? She felt torn.

There was a series of bird calls in the trees. It was nice to listen to, peaceful even.

An explosion just outside their camp’s wall shook the earth, snapping the delinquents to attention. The gunners at the wall readied their arms for potential threats. Minutes passed before a voice rang out, Nathan Miller’s, Clarke identified, over the hushed whispers of the delinquents, all reaching for a weapon in the event of another attack. “We’ve got a live one!”

∞∞∞

Lincoln was posted in the tree overlooking the camp, observing the typical goings on of the immature invasion force. He could see two boys playing a game where they would toss a raw jobi nut into the other’s mouth before celebrating a successful round by slapping their own palms with a grin of glee.

Octavia had entered a tent on the far side of the camp with her brother. The man appeared to be warring with himself over something, while the girl looked like she was ready to argue and push back against anything and everything he had to say. That was almost an hour ago. There has been no movement, no indication that they were exiting the tent for the time being.

At the same time, Raven, he recalled the woman’s name was finishing the task of collecting the bright colored markers from the earth. It was almost forever ago he saw her planting metal contraptions under the soil. ‘Landmines’, Octavia called them. They must be a defensive precaution as the intent was for ‘wolves and curious Grounders’, as she once said.

What confused him about the term was the fact that mines did exist on land already, and raw ore was taken from them to make blades along with scrap metal scavenged from the territories. He dismissed the curious thought.

The girl he met two days prior, the co-leader of this first fall, Clarke was sitting near the fire pit drawing in her book absentmindedly. She appeared to be unaware of everything around her, the pencil in her hand stroking the paper inside carefully. His eyes narrowed in confusion as the cat sat beside her. Their procurer of munitions soon followed and sat beside the blonde and engaged her in a conversation he could barely hear the tones spoken so softly, the decibel and distance garbled their words.

Octavia was right to put her trust in the blonde, it appeared. No other of these ‘delinquents’ appeared to know of his personal existence. Clarke made the medicine he learned so long ago and that was that, she was unquestioned where she learned of it, so she didn't seem to volunteer the information.

He was unable to speak with Anya about the potential of setting up peace talks, and for the moment, it appeared to be a good thing. The remaining members of this camp seemed to hold such...opinions against his people. They were not without reason, though, also not with understanding to the ‘why’ which motivates them. O seemed to be the only one who truly got it, and it appeared as though Clarke was slowly warming to the idea herself.

The thought was not something he expected to be changed overnight, not by any means. Such a pivot of opinion usually took time to fully set its course. It took nearly four years for Heda’s fleimkepa to stop baying for the blood of Luna, upon the formalization of the Kongeda itself after the leader's ascension. And even then, Titus still was not fully comfortable about it.

Octavia admitted to feeling as though she imagined she were living in a fantasy world at the prospect that the Kongedon may shift into the animal housed in their spirit. He did not expect Clarke to be at peace with the idea that not all of his people were monsters calling for their blood. Most of them did, that much was true, but that was not the point.

The fact of the matter was that their people were two sides of the same coin, as the ancient words say. Most held the same biases against the other. It was only due diligence to become the force of change they wished to seek, and allow their actions to bolster their words. As words without actions are but empty promises. They had so much to offer one another. It was a fact that even Heda must have been able to see from the tower in Polis, so far away.

His eyes caught movement of their tracker strolling over to the girls on the cushioned seat by the fire pit. They didn’t seem to notice his advances. How careless of them to be so unaware of their backs. Though awareness was a skill hard earned, another thing he could not fault them on. He stifled a smirk as the feline batted at the boy purposely missing the mark. Though the cat was small, it was among the deadliest of its breed.

Over sixty percent of its hunts were successful, and they did not require much sustenance. If they consumed water, it was only because they wished to do so. It was the lightest of its species. It was true to the testament that you should never underestimate something that appears so weak. Though it was a surprise to see such a solitary creature seeking company. How curious. What was she planning?

His eyes scanned over the rest of the camp. Gunners were at their posts, half of them appeared vigilant, while the others looked like they wished to be doing anything else at the moment. There was the surly boy whittling in boredom in the furthest corner. The rest were either sleeping to take their posts from the gunners on guard for the overnight shift, or chatting among themselves and imbibing while playing a game where the object was to bounce a flat piece of metal into a cup. They were having varying degrees of success in their efforts. It was amusing to see some try balancing the metal on their face to ‘score extra points’ for their showmanship. Their ‘points’ seemed arbitrary, only bolstering reputation as ‘King’ or ‘Queen’ of the game. They really were the most interesting subject matter he ever had to observe in recent memory.

Movement in the woods  caught is attention. _Again?_ A single warrior of Tristan’s garrison prowled through the trees. Not a wolf, but a feline shifter. Was he really trying to test Anya’s patience? The warrior paused at the treeline, the bone fragment mask was painted to better camouflage themselves during daylight hours. He looked back to the camp. They were none the wiser. He quickly tore a small sliver of the page from the book in his hand, replacing the journal into his satchel. He wrote quickly on the slip on his knee. He shoved the note into his pocket.

He whistled a bird call to catch the gona’s attention, signaling them to back off. The warrior shook her head and shifted her position closer to his post. He tried again, attempting to stop her advance. He began to signal with his hands. _“Explosives in the soil. Don’t get close.”_

_“They are not so bold to do such a thing._ ” She signaled back following her own bird call. _“Look at them, they are not warriors. They’re children.”_

_“Do not attack them!”_ He gestured urgently.  _“Return to the garrison. We’ve got it handled.”_

The warrior ignored his signs and made to move forward. She must have stopped maybe 30 meters from his perch, there was a resonate clicking sound that fell on deaf ears as the woman crouched behind the brush, her back to him. He whistled again. The warrior waived him off without turning to look at him.

She was too focused on her target to know the impending danger.

Lincoln stood, ready to move from his position hidden in the canopy of the thick, overlapping cypress trees that were beginning preparations to shed their needles. He had to intercept the warrior before she did anything rash.

It all happened so fast. The woman moved before he vacated his perch and a deafening explosion tore through his ears as soil was thrown into the air. Blood coated the trees and ground in a red mist. The blast must have dismembered the warrior, as there was multiple thuds against the trees and on the ground.

Lincoln lost his balance as the earth shook. The burning in his leg and nerve endings notified him of the plastic wedged between his sinewy quadriceps. He was disoriented by the high pitched ringing in his ears as he fell to the ground several feet below. He could faintly feel his body giving way as he slammed into the branches that shepherded him to the ground. Before his ungraceful landing, he attempted to relax himself to minimize the damage and kept his chin tucked tightly to his chest to avoid whiplash.

He wasn’t expecting to fall on shards of metal embedded in the ground. His neck gave way and his head smacked back into the rocks behind him, turning his vision blurry. How long he lay among the blast zone was lost on the Grounder. He could faintly see the silhouette of a tanned boy, one of the gunners, standing over him with a gun pointed in his face. “We got a live one!” His voice sounded distant as his consciousness escaped him when the boy slammed the butt of his rifle down onto his forehead when he tried to get up to flee or fight, he wasn’t sure at the time.

Lincoln woke up sometime later, his muscles failing to respond to his commands. His arms were numb and his shoulders ached. He swallowed around the dry lump in his throat. The burning of his thigh increased with the presence of the shrapnel embedded there. The beating between his ears and behind his eyes were unyielding, and the light that glowed like a specter overhead wasn’t helping matters much. His eyes slid shut once again. His breaths came with a wave of agony borne by battered ribs which he resolved to endure in silence.

He clenched his hands and shifted slightly. A coarse material chafed his wrists. There was a cool breeze on his chest.

“You’re awake,” he heard from off to his left. Bellamy, Octavia’s brother, he recalled. This wasn’t going to be good.

∞∞∞

“Damn, girl! How much gunpowder did you pack in those?” One of the delinquents asked breathlessly to Raven who was still contemplating what actually just happened.

“Not much, actually." His question seemed to startle her out of her thoughts. "If we’re going by the recommended artillery amount from Mr. Tom P.’s ‘how to’ guide, shrapnel would have skewered us in no time flat. I just can’t believe that worked!” She breathed.

Nathan and another gunner could be seen dragging an unconscious hulking, bloodied mass by the arms. Clarke frowned. Bald head, tanned skin. Strong features...Octavia...Shit! Sapphire eyes scanned the crowd of murmuring delinquents for the younger Blake. Finding purchase on her target she could observed the conspicuous worry and fear that seeped into her expression, her hands folded tightly against her chest.

The blonde moved through the crowd towards Bellamy and Octavia. Nathan and his partner stopped at their feet. “Where do we put him?”

“Why not put a bullet in the savage’s head and end him?” One of the gunners suggested with hostility in his tone.

“Shut up,” Bellamy ordered the delinquent who spoke out. “Third floor of the drop ship,” he answered Miller. “Make sure he’s tied up tight.”

“Bellamy, he’s hurt!” Octavia turned a glare at her brother who shrugged dispassionately.

“That sounds like his problem, not ours. Miller, you take first shift watching him. Get me when he starts waking up. I got a few questions to ask him.”

“You got it, Blake,” the gunner nodded to his partner and they moved around the leaders to enter the drop ship.

“Bellamy. That Grounder - Octavia’s right, he’s wounded,” Clarke reiterated. “I’m going to take a look at him.”

“No, you aren’t Clarke. He’s dangerous, and we don’t have the resources. Besides, he’s the enemy.” She could almost hear Octavia seething. Clarke sent her a reassuring look.

“He won’t talk if he bleeds out and dies,” Clarke countered with a glare as she stepped up to him. She could see Bellamy’s teeth grinding.

“I talk to him first, then he’s yours.”

“If all you’re going to do is talk, fine. If you’re planning on hurting him, I’m going to get in there.” She shook her head. “That’s not who we are...”

The elder Blake scoffed. “It is now. No one is going to get into the upper level of the drop ship!” He ordered before stalking off, brushing past Clarke as he moved.

Octavia moved quickly to the blonde’s side, “we’ve got to help him Clarke,” she hissed quietly, her palms clammy from worry.

“I- I know, Octavia. I’m working on it. For right now, Bellamy agreed to only talking to him.”  
  
“That doesn’t mean he will only just talk to him! I know my brother, Clarke, and he’s going to do anything to make sure that ‘conversation’ happens.” Octavia scowled. “It looks like he got caught up in the explosion, he needs medical attention!”

Clarke sat with Octavia, attempting to keep their cover for what seemed like forever. Bellamy strode past them with a delinquent hot on his heels. After a few breaths, a distinct smacking sound could be heard reverberating through the beat up metal home. “That’s it,” Clarke stood and retrieved a bag containing some supplies with the brunette following close behind, clenching her fists in righteous anger.

The delinquent who collected Bellamy to tell him the Grounder was starting to wake up stopped them at the ladder that led to the upper floors of the drop ship. “I can’t let you go up there. Blake’s orders.” He crossed his arms.

“The hell you won’t!” Octavia lashed out. Clarke held her back by grasping an arm in a grip so tight it surprised her.

“Move. He and I have an agreement.”

The delinquent shook his head with a smirk. “Or you’ll do what, Princess?”

Clarke considered her options. She sure as hell wasn’t a fighter. She wasn’t going to stoop herself to causing a riot. Damn him! She thought she was making progress. “Are you sure you want to keep me out? What’s Bell promising you? A larger tent?” The delinquent’s stare was answer enough. “It sure would be a shame to bet that, considering we agreed to keep the Grounder alive until he talks. Weren’t you listening when I made it clear that we can’t get answers from a corpse?” He rolled his eyes and torqued his head to the ladder allowing them access.

The sounds of blunt metal smacking flesh grew louder, and soon the shirtless Grounder was visible with a sweat soaked Bellamy heaving breaths as he brought the seat belt down across the man’s wounded torso once more. “Talk!” He demanded. “How many of you are there?!” The man’s dark eyes blinked in response.

The elder Blake brought the instrument down once again for good measure. “Hey Bell,” Nathan called to the inquisitor. “Check this out.” Bellamy rounded the floor. Diggs saddled up beside the crouching boy by the Grounder’s bag. There was an aluminium case containing vials of varying substances. “What is this stuff?”

“Who the hell knows with these people.” Bellamy glared back at the Grounder. “What’s that?” He gestured to something among the man’s effects.

Miller handed Bellamy the red leather bound journal. Lincoln’s eyes filled with recognition as he moved forward slightly. “It looks like we found something he doesn’t want us to see,” Bellamy smirked as he began to untie the leather strap keeping the book closed. Within were drawings of scenery, of animals, and of landmarks. “These are pretty good,” he admitted.

“What the hell is that thing?” Diggs pointed to a Sasquatch looking animal within the contents.

“He a friend of yours?” Bellamy asked snidely, showing the page to the bound man from across the room. He paused as his eyes took in his sister’s likeness smiling back at him from the coarse paper. He turned the page with a clenched jaw.

“Hey,” Miller pointed to the illustration, “that’s our camp.”

“And I’ll bet these tallies add up to 102. They’ve been watching us since we came down here,” his jaw clenched at the summation. “All the more reason to get answers from him.” He put the book aside before entering Lincoln’s personal space once more. “What is your name? Where are your people camped? Answer me!” His fist connected to the man’s square jaw. The man breathed in pain, but still said nothing.

The hatch burst open as Clarke and Octavia entered the third floor of the drop ship. “You’re not supposed to be up here,” Bellamy glared.

Clarke observed the beaten man’s face and bleeding torso. “If he didn’t hate us before, he does now.” Clarke said in lieu of acknowledging Bellamy’s disgruntled observation. “Did you ever think about what his people will do when they question where he is? They won’t take long to find us.”

“That’s what the landmines are for,” Diggs scoffed as he crossed his arms. “Gotta give Reyes her props, she done good on that one. Why you girls wanna help out a savage so badly?” He asked the two as he rounded them in an attempt to be intimidating. “You some kind of Grounder-pounder or something?”

“Clever, Diggs,” Octavia said sarcastically as she crossed her arms. “Bellamy,” Octavia clenched her jaw, “My brother wouldn’t do something like this.”

“Who we are, and who we need to be to survive are two different things, O. And we need Intel to know what we’re up against. You might want to get out or look away.” He palmed a handmade knife, that appeared to be more like a corkscrew and shoved it into the grounder’s hand, piercing the flesh. Lincoln groaned in pain.

“Stop this now Bellamy!” Clarke surged forward, entering the antagonistic man’s space. “We don’t even know if he’s done anything to us!”

“He’s been spying on us, Clarke. His journal - he’s been ticking off how many of us have died! I’d say that’s damning enough already!”

“Bellamy,” Clarke clenched her teeth. “You’ve trusted me,” recognition flashed in the boy’s eyes, knowing she was referring to his crimes. “You put your trust in me to make sure Octavia was safe. So trust me now. Trust Octavia now. There has to be another way.”

Diggs rolled his eyes, “you can’t be seriously considering a weak plan for alone time with the grounder, Bell.”

“Bellamy, look at him, if we fight a war against them, nothing is going to end well.”

“If we don’t fight, we die anyway,” the older Blake clenched his jaw.

“Bell, let him go, and let Clarke help him!”

“Try it your way, then. I need to get a drink anyway,” he shook his head. “Diggs, let’s go. Miller, you stay here.”

“Miller only stays here if he’s helping us tend to his wounds,” Clarke raised a brow daring him to challenge her.

Miller quirked a brow at the elder Blake and shook his head slightly, unwilling to acquiesce to the conditions. Diggs raised his hands, unwilling as well. “Fine, the Grounder stays tied up, though. You don’t get the information we need, I step back in. He lunges, or tries to attack,” he removed a gun from his waistband and setting it on to a crate near the hatch, "you put a bullet in him. I'm going to trust you on this, Princess. So don't make me think it's been misplaced."

The two girls waited for the boys to leave before carefully removing Lincoln’s bonds. The blonde dragged a heavy case over to the hatch and set it over the entryway, locking it shut. Octavia placed Lincoln’s arm over her shoulders as she guided him to where Clarke was setting out clothes to make a makeshift bed for him. Slowly Octavia lowered Lincoln onto the floor, he groaned in pain.

Octavia cupped his cheek and stroked her thumb across his skin as he raised his uninjured hand to taker her hand in his much larger, more calloused one. Clarke felt like she was invading a private moment. She cleared her throat. “Lincoln, what happened?”

“Tristan’s warrior wouldn’t listen,” he rasped.

“Tristan? Who’s that?”

“Unit leader...at the blockade.”

Octavia began cleaning his bloodied face and head, examining the caked blood where he hit his head against the rocks. “Clarke,” the blonde moved over to see what Octavia was pointing at. She cringed.

“I’m...sorry you got caught up in the explosion,” the blonde said as she moved back to her bag and removed a canister of Monty’s moonshine, pouring it onto her hands. She offered it to Octavia as well.

“Mm,” he groaned, “my right pocket.” Octavia quickly wrapped a towel around the shrapnel in his thigh. She looked to the location the man indicated. The brunette fished out a small, mangled slip from his uninjured side and unfurled it. The slanted writing was sharp, and the words were almost nonsensical to one who didn't understand the language. “Take that to the one your bomb maker calls Ashes.”

“Ashes?” Octavia repeated as she set the note on the floor, “is she-” she stopped short eyeing Clarke’s confused look, “-a...pet of one of your people?” Lincoln nodded, understanding the cover.

“That explains so much,” Clarke muttered under her breath. She settled beside the injured Grounder and pressed a cool cloth to the back of his head and removed a makeshift suture kit comprised of one sewing needle, and some wire she pilfered from the second floor days ago. She took a light and shone it into his eyes. He recoiled. “Remember these three words: Dog, book, flower.” Lincoln frowned in confusion. “I want you to squeeze my fingers,” she presented her index and middle finger to his uninjured hand.

“Why?”  
  
“Come on, Lincoln, just do it.” He slowly raised his hands and squeezed her fingers.

“What were the words I asked you to remember?” Clarke asked. Lincoln repeated them with ease.

“Do you feel like you’re going to puke?” He hesitantly shook his head. “I would say you might have a mild concussion...dilation in the eyes.” She trailed off.

“Are you sure you got this, Clarke?” Octavia asked tensely as she noticed the blonde looking at the wound on his thigh with trepidation.

“I’ve helped my mother through harder procedures in the past.” She tilted her head and exhaled through her nose sharply, “I’m ready.” She shoved the doubtful ‘I hope’ into the back of her mind. She unwrapped the blue towel from Lincoln’s leg and examined the shrapnel. “Lower inside of the thigh to right of the patella…” she recalled her mother’s constant droning about anatomy. “...Vastus medialis… the femoral artery crosses it…” she gently probed around the man’s exposed muscular upper thigh until she felt a strong thrumming of the pulse near his groin. Lincoln shifted uncomfortably and looked to Octavia with question. She shrugged.

Clarke closed her eyes to visualize the charts her mother always had around the med bay. She followed the trail of what she remembered to be the branch network of the area until she neared where the wound was. “Strong pulse. It doesn’t look or feel like it hit the femoral artery, but let’s just hope that there aren’t small fragments of it that broke away. We don’t have that kind of equipment available.”

She grasped the metal with her left hand and began to slowly remove it from it’s fleshy prison. Lincoln hissed and groaned in pain as Octavia cradled his head to make sure he didn’t to any more damage to it. A concussion, no matter how mild, was still a pain.

The sound of the metal leaving his leg was audible, and blood began to escape the wound. Octavia moved to dab the blood away from Clarke’s procedure. Once it was freed, it was only maybe three inches in size. "It's out," Clarke breathed. He was lucky that those land mines didn’t have that much gunpowder in them, otherwise he would have been dead or more critically wounded.

Octavia poured water onto the wound and dabbed it before Clarke set about stitching him up with the wire. “This is going to have to take time to heal, Lincoln.” She gestured to his leg, and with your head, you shouldn’t return to your duties for...I would say maybe ten days at least. Octavia,” Clarke called the girl’s attention. “You can take that out of his hand,” she looked to Lincoln. “Are you ready to continue?”

“I..want it out,” he groaned haltingly. He hissed in relief when the metal in his hand was removed. He slowly clenched his fingers to his palm before relaxing his hand. Octavia began to clean it. It didn’t escape Clarke’s observation that he crossed his thumb over her hand tenderly. The feeling of being a spectator to a private moment settled in her gut again.

“Thank you, Clarke,” the younger Blake looked to her with watery eyes.

“You...care a lot about him,” she waved her hand as if to say 'obviously'. “It’s really no problem.” She began to make a makeshift gauze bandage out of torn cloth and tape to cover the gash on his side under his bruised ribs from the seat belt. “I’m just sorry I can’t do anything about your ribs. You might have cracked or bruised them. They’re going to cause a lot of discomfort.” Clarke stood. “Octavia, would you be able to cover him with a blanket or something and stay with him? Make sure he doesn’t go into shock?”

“I can get it from here,” she smiled gently.

“I can pass that on to Ashes to bring to her actual owner, I guess.” Octavia handed the slip over to her. “Just make sure you wake him up every four hours, O.”

“I can take it from here, Clarke. Go.”

“Klark,” Lincoln’s eyes shone warmer than they did during their initial meeting, “thank...you. Both of you.” Clarke smiled and nodded before she moved the crate, opening the hatch to make her way down the ladder. She had to go and track down the hell spawn now.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for bearing with me for now, and I hope you've enjoyed this chapter.
> 
> The question behind whether or not the landmine stuff was accurate, here's my rationalization of it (even though it's admittedly far-fetched, but this is fiction, right? Also, not an artillery expert.) : typical landmines (made of plastic and metal), are obviously deadly AF. For argument's sake, Fragments can kill up to 35-50 meters with the 360 degree shrapnel blast, and severe injuries at more than 100 meters. 
> 
> For the sake of this story, less gunpowder fueling the landmine's kick = reduction of a blast radius. So the values are greatly diminished in conjunction to how much gunpowder Raven actually used in them. So 10m. for kill, 20-30m. for severe to mild injuries. Really, she just made a loud noise that spat up some dirt and blew someone sky high.
> 
> Link -  
> https://www.care.org/emergencies/facts-about-landmines
> 
> Birds, specifically hawks have excellent long distance vision, with an ability to spot prey at a distance of 30(ish) meters. 
> 
> Link-http://www.softschools.com/facts/animals/hawk_facts/307/
> 
> Familiar dialogue/references originate from s1e7, "Contents Under Pressure", and s1e8, "Day Trip"
> 
> As far as Grounders and the ability to shift is concerned, the heightened senses are latent from their 'species' I suppose you could say. They do have identifying features like distinct discoloration where tattoos would be (not in the same shape though, that would be too obvious and Grounders strike me as people of discretion), or eye color when they are in the form of their animal.
> 
> Also, the Grounders have a form of sign language for the mutes among them, because why the hell not.
> 
> We're starting to build on atrocities that kick started the Skaikru/Trikru conflict now.  
> Killed: 25 Skaikru (between Noukru and Trikru), 2 Trikru, 10 Noukru  
> Injured: 1 Skaikru, 2 Trikru
> 
> As always, thank you so much for reading! Feel free to drop me a comment below if you want to give me some food for thought ;3


	6. Party Crashers

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Unity Day arrives: Octavia makes a plan that Clarke is unsure of. Raven makes a discomforting discovery. Survivors see something they never thought would be made a reality.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, Welcome back!
> 
> Sorry about my absence as of late. Aside from doing research into Moonshine, trying to find a will to write and on my Cardi B shit trying to make money moves in my career field, I've been trying to fit my life into tiny boxes. Treated myself to a tattoo for my birthday (not on my birthday), attempted to enjoy Pride (but couldn't cuz my ass was working all the GD time), so HAPPY (belated) PRIDE my fellow gays!
> 
> Anyways, I did a full on rewrite of this chapter because I wasn't happy with the first editions of it, and I think you can kinda see my original thought process which is rebuked by research ;D
> 
> I hope you enjoy!

As soon as Clarke found Ashes, it took all her courage to approach the cat who eyed her with hostile and knowing eyes, her tail puffed and her teeth exposed ready to defend herself. Her hackles rose higher as Clarke intentionally kneeled down in front of her, she was ready to swipe her dagger like claws at the fair skinned girl. She must have been on edge from the explosion. “From Lincoln,” she whispered to the cat after looking around and ensuring she was alone with the feline in Raven’s tent. Hazel eyes observed her, her tail twitched. Clarke dropped the crumpled paper in front of the animal. She wasn’t even sure this was a good idea, really. “He’s starting to get better, you know? Octavia and I can only stall Bellamy for so long...but. He wasn’t as injured as he could have been. He said that you would bring that to your actual owner. So what do you say? Truce?” She held her left hand out to allow the cat to decide whether or not to rub against it. Clarke could only rationalize that Raven built her rapport with the cat by talking to her insistently.

It must have been a trick of the light or something, as it would have been entirely irrational to believe that an animal was able to understand her. 

Ashes stood and clenched the paper in her small jaw before nudging Clarke’s hand with her head. It was an acceptance of her peace offering, the blonde could tell. At least for the time being. The cat didn’t allow Clarke to touch her for long before she zipped past the opening of the tent and ran to the woods. 

Being so small, two pounds and low to the ground, Ashes was not at all visible to the gunners in the overgrowth. Even most animals missed her presence in the brush. It was the perks of choosing to take the form of a black footed cat. Determining she was far enough from camp, Ashes found herself at the outcropping of a hidden cave. Bones began to crackle and snap and her fur turned to skin. Phalanges replaced claws and foot pads. The woman worked her jaw as she sat naked on the rocky ground. She brushed the unkempt braids back from her face. 

Anya reached into her mouth and withdrew Lincoln’s letter. Worry settled in her stomach when she felt the earth quake, and doubled when her favorite scout - not that she’d ever admit that - was dragged by his arms into the children’s camp. Her eyes scanned the sharp, slanted lines. 

_T  gona homplei. Em nou sen ai in._

She noticed the dried blood that must have been from Lincoln’s wounds, or from the blonde’s hands from when she passed it along. Was that girl so naive that she would trust so willingly? Well, Heda has always said that alliances are risky. Speaking of the younger woman who was once her seken, Tristan’s warriors were now overtly jeopardizing the lives of her people - her warriors. That could no longer stand. For whatever reason Heda had for assigning them to work together, she would understand the larger picture that they mixed as well as oil and water. There was no excuses for Tristan to not have a handle on his warriors now. 

It seemed the Skaikru’s mentality of ‘whatever the hell you want’ was catching on like wildfire during the drought with the more brazen warriors of Trikru. She ran a bare hand down the side of her face and cringed slightly. She didn’t care much for the smell of gunpowder that seemed to permeate the mechanic’s living space that stuck itself on her skin whenever she shifted back from her cover as ‘Ashes’.

Anya found her mind wandering to the tanned woman with her hair in a ponytail. Her irreverence for the social structures and divides her people seemed insistent on enforcing was almost amusing. That is, until it would be the driving force to get her killed. She was able to critique both sides, those who follow the skat, and those who followed her own friend, Klark. She supposed it was a factor that the girl would seem supercilious due to her intelligence that gave her such confidence. 

Granted, that trait seemed to be embedded in the Skaigoufa’s hearts.

Anya shook her head, returning her wayward mind back to Reivon. Her immediate proclamation of ‘dibbs’ (whatever that meant) on her was strange. She stated the very true fact that her brand of shifters, felines, both large and small, were very solitary creatures. She proclaimed they made the best roommate because of their aloofness. That was, of course, before the torrent of incoherent mumblings at all hours of the day and night.

She talked to herself to keep track of the thoughts that ran rampant in her ‘genius’ brain. It was admittedly annoying at first, but soon after, Anya found that the mechanic kept her attention. First with how the radios were best put together, followed by her ramblings about a ‘frequency’, and then her overt obsession with the physics of how landmines worked. She’s remembered that one sided conversation after she spied Lincoln on that girl Octavia’s shoulder with his head affectionately nestled against her skin.

And he was surprised that she knew. Branwoda.

She also sang herself a ditty to distract herself. One that sounded like compounds, most of them foreign to the Grounder’s ears, only recognizing iron, silver, sulfur and lead. The rest was nonsense at that point. When the boy Jasper commented on it, Anya remembered the snide comment that if she wanted to be good at chemistry, she would. She only sang it to remember the 'table’ out of boredom.

It must have been a large table to have been made of such a large quantity of compounds.

Anya was loathe to admit that she respected the cunning and preparedness the strong willed girl displayed. Their people may not ever come to peace, or they would tear one another apart in the conflict, but at least she or the girl would die having the unit leader’s esteemed opinion. A feat not many could say.

That was all. It was just curiosity and respect.

The warrior stood and pulled the medium sized rock she sat against out of the earth and retrieved clothing she stashed away from the hole. She dressed quickly and rebraided her hair before sliding Lincoln’s memo into her wrist band that held her spare throwing knives. 

She had things to see to that required her attention, and a seken to track down to send a message to Polis. The matter was too delicate to send a runner, or someone that she couldn’t trust for that matter.

∞∞∞

Lincoln grasped the tin that held his first aid and poison and removed a vial with an oil that he knew would help his pain management. He could deal with the impact of Bellamy’s fist, but the stab through the hand and the whipping from the seatbelt didn’t do much for his wounds sustained from being tossed from the trees like a rag doll. He could almost hear Nyko chiding him about taking care of his health. 

He felt Octavia curl into his neck, breathing a contented sigh against his skin. He knew that the next step for the Skaikru was to ensure they were preserving their security. If Bellamy had his way, he would be executed sooner than later.

“Lincoln?” Octavia whispered after placing a kiss to the side of his neck, he hummed in question. “You're awake," she smiled contentedly. 

She felt him nod and his lips pull before he rested his cheek against the top of her head. "I am. Is there something on your mind, hodness?"

"I'm just glad that you're okay." Lincoln made a sound that indicated he knew there were more thoughts thrashing around in her mind. The brunette hesitated before sighing. "I froze.” The girl moved her head back to allow the larger man to turn to face her, a question furrowing his brows. “At the river. When those warriors attacked. I felt...hopeless. Useless.”

His injured hand caressed her cheek. “It happens to every great warrior,” he smiled softly. “You were ill prepared to face an enemy at long range. And you are just starting to learn the ways. I don’t expect you to jump into the heat of a fight immediately, Octavia. No one does.” She pressed her face into the calloused and rough skin. “A warrior’s seken usually trains for years before being tasked with engaging in combat. You’ve been training for maybe 23 days.”

She sighed in aggravation at herself and her own perceived weakness. “That shouldn’t matter. Even Clarke and Raven were ready to fight before running.”

“They also had guns,” he pointed out. “My people have a saying. ‘Ge smak daun, gyon op nodotaim’. Get knocked down, get back up. Do not quit, rise above the challenge. You are a ‘Grounder’.” He said the foreign word that the Skaikru kept calling him and his people. 

“You said everyone freezes up?” She asked pulling at the threads of the frayed fabric beneath her head.

“Every great warrior I have known feels fear, and has frozen by it. I have found myself in that position too. As fearsome as my unit leader sounds, I remember seeing her when she was uncertain her seken would live or die. That was when I was first transferred to her unit. You’re only human, hodness.”

Octavia nodded against his shoulder, “that makes me feel a little better,” she contemplated a dream she had when she was napping earlier. “Do you ever think we’ll be able to see how your people live during peacetime?”

“I hope so.”

“Do you think you can show me around? A village, I mean.” Lincoln’s brow furrowed at the question.  
  
“Now?”

She nodded again. “I know to stand down wind from the predator shifters, wolves and cats, I mean.”

“There are more shifters than just those, O. You would need to stand down wind of all of them, even the docile shifters.”

“Is there a time when a whole village isn’t paying attention to their noses?” She pressed. Her jaw clenched. “Never mind, I- I know that it’s...something too risky and I don’t want to put you in that position. Especially the mess I got you here,” she sat up to look at the man’s face. “Forget I said anything.”

“You did not ‘blow’ me out of the trees, hodness,” he said gently. “I would like nothing more than to show you how my people live. Like on a child’s name day, everything stops. Everyone comes together to celebrate the birth. After the mother gives birth and rests, there are droves of people who give her and the child gifts. A new life is a precious thing...innocent.”

“That sounds amazing, Lincoln.” A smile spread across her lips. “So do your people celebrate the kid’s birthday every year?”

He shook his head, “we do not. Only the first day of birth. There are also celebrations on the first day of planting season and of the harvest season.” He smiled reminiscent, “The snowfall, too. I remember a time my brother, Naikou, during the squalling season during winter - we would always pelt snow at one another when we were children when we weren’t with our fos.”

“Is your brother a warrior too?”

“He is a fisa, a healer,” Lincoln paused to consider something. “Do you?" He asked suddenly. At Octavia's frown, he reiterated. "Do you wish to see my people in happiness?”

“Lincoln, you don’t have to. Forget I said anything about it. We should focus on stopping a war. And we have to break you out of here first.” A slow grin split her lips. “And I think I have a plan.”

∞∞∞

Clarke felt her jaw clenching. What would her dad say about this? The ever so righteous best friend Wells? She remembered her dad saying a long time ago: 'show me who you associate with and I'll tell you who you are'. He always told her to remember this specific lesson. It was almost as if he knew that she would be finding herself in this situation. _This is for the greater good_ , she rationalized. _I'm just helping someone who helped me. Ulterior motives be damned._

She spent a large part of the morning with the Grounder and her friend brainstorming how best to safely get Lincoln out of the camp. Wouldn't there be repercussions for this though? The world still seemed to be hinged on actions and consequences. 

Why did she agree to this? She was sure she had better things to be doing than playing the 'Moonshine Maiden: the blessed angel with the three capacity deliverance'. She rolled her eyes for what felt like the umpteenth time that afternoon as she placed the three cups in her hands on the makeshift break table. There was the occasional snide remark of being served by an 'elite', or the occasional kind comment (mostly from Harper and Monroe) requesting she take a break from caring for them.

By the pure power of suggestion, Monty broke out the still and began brewing like it was his last day. Jasper dubbed the concoction 'Unity Juice' in honor of the holiday. Miller set up the telecommunication device to broadcast the afternoon's Unity Day Pageant which preceded the Chancellor's speech. That was bound to be a hit among the delinquents. 

The off duty kids partook in imbibing the moonshine jovially. Most were boasting about having captured the Grounder. Others were speculating about his culture based upon how he looked.  There were even bets going along the lines of who would be the one to extract information from the man first: Clarke or Bellamy; or how long would Bellamy take to get the Grounder to break. It was cynical and rather disgusting, really. 

Clarke cautiously handled the aluminium tin that she wanted to hide from sight near the drop ship, remembering the critical detail to keep it outdoors. She searched high and low and saw that there were at a minimum two fire extinguishers within reach inside of the drop ship for easy access. 

She sat through Monty's lecture regarding the process of making moonshine when he began the process soon after she left Lincoln and Octavia. The section that interested her the most was what he called the 'foreshot'. Nearly pure methanol, rather than ethanol - was required to be discarded carefully, as the invisible flame would be among the most difficult to be put out. 

She would have to wait for nightfall to dispose of this if their plan was going to work. 

“What’ve you got there, Princess?” She heard Bellamy asked as he deepened his voice to try and sound more intimidating.

“Foreshot. Monty said something about invisible flames and finding a proper way to dispose of it. I don’t want to accidentally burn down the forest or our camp.” She gritted her teeth before she whipped her hands on her jeans before picking the aluminum tin back up. 

“Sounds dangerous,” the man observed. Clarke nodded her head affirmatively. “Did you see the Grounder’s book?” He asked offhandedly.

“The one with Octavia drawn in it?” Clarke clarified. Bellamy nodded his head. “Yeah. That’s why she’s okay up there. If he cares for her in some capacity, he won’t hurt her.” The blonde rationalized.

“Or he could take advantage of her,” the older Blake pointed out.

“With his injuries? Not likely. He’s going to be in a lot of pain just breathing just on account of his ribs being injured Bellamy, and Octavia is armed, so she’ll be okay.” She reassured the overprotective brother. “That and he seems docile. He might just be some kind of scout or something that doesn’t fight.” Bellamy frowned in question. “Unless you confiscated a weapon from him?”

“No. There was no weapon.” Bellamy scratched his cheek thoughtfully. “But he looks like a fighter.”

“Maybe he’s some kind of farmer on the off chance their people aren’t threatened by refugees.” Clarke readjusted the foreshot in the container grasped between her hands. “Just from the videos on the Ark, they seemed strong to be tossing around sacks of grain and hay. And judging by the lack of knowledge and possession of technology, I don’t think I would be too far off the mark assuming they do everything by hand. Which would contribute to the muscle mass on him. Or he’s a hunter of some kind?”

“I still don’t trust him.”

“No one said you had to.” Clarke raised a brow. “Just trust Octavia and I to do what's necessary to help us all survive. And I mean anything.”

“Survival isn’t who you are, it’s who you become when you have to Clarke.” Bellamy’s jaw clenched as he crossed his arms. “And sometimes I think you need to break a few eggs to make an omelette.”

Clarke sighed. “I know that. But he’s the first who we have the ability to try and communicate with. He can help us, we just need to figure out what he wants. We can’t get anything if we don’t give anything, Bellamy. Just please, let me do what I need to do. Maybe if we just tried talking to them, try and help them understand that we don't mean any harm...”

  
Bellamy snorted in disbelief at her words. “I don't think that's likely, Princess. I just hope whatever it is you’re doing isn’t going to come back and bite us, because you can believe these people,” he gestured vaguely to the chattering members of their camp crowded around the telecommunication device with a drink in hand watching the pageant. “They’re gonna want your blood.”

Clarke made a face that could only say ‘what else is new’ before she shook her head. “Just give us time. I think it’s going to work out just fine. Anyway, the Ark is supposed to come down before midnight, sometime around maybe eight or nine?”

“That’s what Miller said they’re projecting, could be a little later, could be sooner. It depends how long they take to bolt everything down before they drop. Raven said that Sinclair is sure they’re leaving the GoSci ring in orbit, and everything else is gonna come down. Something about it would take too long to prep it, and even then it’s more of a hassle than an asset in the drop.”

“Okay, I trust Raven on that one. She would know the ins and outs more intimately to know if it was doable or not.” An idea popped into Clarke’s head. “Actually, that just confirmed it. Going back to the Grounder upstairs...We were thinking about introducing isolation to his stay. So probably for about 24 hours. Octavia and I could scout around the general area where Sydney says they’re aiming for and steer clear of the landing site to suss out the temperament of the rest of the Ark: if they’re planning on exonerating us or not. I’m not asking permission, we were going to do this anyway, I just thought it would be prudent to let you know.”

Bellamy frowned thoughtfully. “I did read something about sensory deprivation...it might work. And it’s a two birds, one stone situation. I just don’t want O to get locked up again.”

“Right, I understand that. And O she has a way of sneaking off without anyone knowing, so I’m sure she’ll be fine.” Clarke shoved the foreshot into Bellamy’s hands abruptly. “Take care of this please? I have to check something out.”

Bellamy couldn’t get the words out of his mouth fast enough at the retreating blonde’s back. He eyed the canister suspiciously, as though it would blow up in his face.

Clarke, on the other hand, was quite happy that she didn’t have to pour the foreshot all over Digg’s boots, no matter how much she couldn’t fault Octavia’s logic being that he was an asshole anyway. It was a surefire way to burn their camp to the ground, based on what Monty was saying. The flames were invisible for God’s sake! How could you tell if the flame was out anyway? They would sooner set the guy on fire and he would tear through their provisions. It would be as effective as shooting themselves in the foot!

Clarke grabbed a few bags of provisions for Octavia and Lincoln to eat as she passed. She quickly climbed the ladder and rapped her fist against the hatch. It opened and Clarke crawled on the floor before tossing a food pack to Lincoln, handing one to Octavia and tearing the packaging of hers open with her teeth.

“We’re all set to go then Clarke?” Octavia asked.

“I have an amendment to your plan, O.” Clarke eyed the light eyed girl. “I think if alcohol dries it doesn’t burn, and the foreshot of the moonshine is too dangerous. Besides, we need an alibi if we’re not going to get accused of breaking him out of here.”

Octavia made a face indicating that she hadn’t thought of that aspect of her plan. She just expected to get everyone drunk, start a fire and sneak out the front gate.

“The Ark is scheduled to come down tonight, I told Bell that we’re planning on going to the site before it drops down to check out if Sydney is playing by the same rules as Jaha was.”

“And what about Lincoln?” Octavia looked to the prone man quietly munching on the bland meat provided.

“We’re going to sneak him out too when most of them get drunk. When the first round goes to sleep, Mbege and Castenguay should be boozed up enough to start a fight between themselves. People get distracted by the fist fight, we sneak out through the side port you usually go through. I told Bell we were planning on isolating Lincoln for a day, so he should be long gone before anyone comes up.” Clarke frowned in thought. “Would you be able to put something of John’s near Castenguay’s bed?”

Octavia nodded. “Castenguay was arrested for theft, right?” Clarke confirmed quickly. “And what did my brother say about that?”

“He read something some time ago that said sensory deprivation was a viable means of getting information.”

Octavia blinked. She didn’t know how to feel about the obvious planting of ideas in her brother’s head and him, really everyone, being rather easily manipulated by her new found blonde friend for the sake of her boyfriend. Though, it seemed to be a necessary evil at this time.

They could hear the rancorous jibing from the delinquents as the pageant ended. One of them must have turned the volume of the device up, as a vicious ‘shut up, guys!’ was hollered at the bunch. 

They could hear the voice of the Chancellor very clearly through the hull of the drop ship.

_“Today is a momentous day, not only as we celebrate the formation of the Ark as we know it. Today is the day as the day we reunite with our children on Earth. Their hard work has made this dream of our final journey possible! Take note of their determination to overcome every obstacle thrown their way, and have confidence in yourselves and your council to get us to the ground ."_

_"Everything is set, your own hard work has been noticed, and appreciated. But I am sorry to inform you the work has just begun. We need to work to make a home on the ground now. But with your tenacity, I have no doubt that we will succeed together!"_

“Can you believe this shit?” One of the delinquents asked in annoyance. 

Night fell quickly, the change of the guard could have been smoother - no thanks to the alcohol. The gunners on duty were still chugging water to get rid of the hangover if they slept the day away (thankfully heeding Clarke’s warning to stay on their sides (she wasn’t about ready to babysit a bunch of drunks) so that was one less thing to do for her). The daytime gunners took to partying it up. Clarke ensured the coast was mainly clear before she knocked on the hatch to the top of the dropship to signal the all clear. 

She walked over to Bellamy as Octavia smoothly guided Lincoln to her escape gate. “Bell,” Clarke addressed the young man, ensuring his back was turned from the escape in progress. “I wanted to let you know O and I are heading out soon.”

Bellamy nodded, about to tell her to watch Octavia’s back, but was quickly cut off by a raging Mbege blowing past them, “Castenguay!” He seethed.

The older Blake shot the blonde an irritated look, he gave her a nod before moving past her. All eyes turned to the off duty gunner confronting the on duty gunner with confidence bolstered by moonshine. 

Clarke was quick to catch up to Lincoln and Octavia just outside the perimeter.

The fleeing trio didn’t notice suspicious brown eyes following their movement.

With the added weight of the muscular warrior scout, they must have been walking for what seemed like hours and covered quite a few miles to the blonde. She looked to the sky. Polaris must have been somewhere behind them. 

“To the left,” Lincoln spoke leaned more on Octavia than Clarke. He seemed to be directing them back to his treehouse. They could hear the rumbling of the Ark as it fell and lit up the sky glowing in a bright light. “Your people?”

Clarke nodded. “Happy Unity Day,” she muttered before a frown took over her features. “It’s breaking apart.” They noticed other balls of fire breaking apart from the larger force.

“Clarke, Octavia!” The three tensed at the voice calling the girls in the woods. They heard footsteps crunching twigs, and curses as they approached. “What the hell, guys? You were gonna leave me there with a bunch of drunken idiots? What are you guys all the way out - float me! What the hell, guys!?” Raven repeated herself as she appeared in front of them and raised her fists to the injured man between them “This guy - You guys decided to jail break him!? What part of ‘danger - this guy was spying on us’ did you forget?”

“Raven, calm down, breathe. He’s okay, okay?” Clarke placated the Latina with her free hand extended in a calming manner. “He helped us. Raven.”

“Bull shit on that!”

“It’s true Raven! Lincoln is a good guy!” 

“Good - Lincoln?” Raven placed a hand on her forehead, “Have you lost your mind!?”

“The recipe for the blood sickness was his, Raven!” Clarke raised her voice over Raven’s disbelieving, stress filled mutters. “Octavia introduced us and he gave me the recipe.”

“Sorry, don’t care. I was the one that buried his buddy that detonated my mine. Nope. I’m not leaving you alone with him and I will bring you both back kicking and screaming if I have to. He could be leading you right into a trap.”

Lincoln and Octavia shared a look, “that is not my intention,” he spoke softly.

Raven recoiled and then frowned. “Wait, he speaks English? I thought Bell said that he didn’t. You said he didn’t!” Clarke sighed and looked down ashamed from keeping the secret. Octavia was biting her lip to keep the thoughts on her mind unsaid. “You both knew? For how long? Is this a joke or something, because it’s got a sub par punchline.”

“No Raven,” Clarke argued back. “I didn’t know until recently, and I can speak for myself when I say I didn’t know how you’d react.”

“I wouldn’t be flipping out half as much as I am right now! That’s for damn sure! You should have just told me and let me deny it so I could tell you to stop being an asshole and pulling my leg! Holy shit.”

“We need to get moving, the woods are more dangerous at night,” Octavia glared at the older brunette. “Get out of our way. So we can get him off his feet,” she demanded.

“Well, if you’re going, I am too.” Raven scowled as she crossed her arms over her chest, “and I’m not taking no for an answer. It’s either that, or we go back to the kicking and screaming thing.”

Lincoln sighed and closed his eyes, letting the girls argue among themselves. “I can only pray to the spirits to ensure this does not go wrong,” he muttered to himself. “We go to the path on the left.”

“I’m glad we have an understanding,” Raven nodded in satisfaction before standing aside. “Anything else I should know? Any other fugitives we’re going to be breaking out, or was this the only case for the lovebirds?” Lincoln tensed, did she know? “Don’t look at me like that, guy. You and O are obviously in sync.”

“Just that Ashes belongs to a grounder, actually,” Clarke noted.

“Awesome, so I have a co parent thing going on with a Grounder I don’t know. Unless she’s yours?” She asked the man who shook his head. “Cool, cool. I’m not going to have an angry Grounder knocking at my door asking for child support, right?”

At Lincoln’s very confused look at the concept, Clarke sighed, “Don’t worry about it Lincoln,” Octavia said to the man.

They tensed when the crashing sounds echoed through the night, and rumbled through the woods. The Ark was officially grounded. “Will your leader send a larger garrison since there’s more of us now?” Clarke asked.

“Wait, rewind. Garrison? What the hell are you talking about?” Raven seethed. “You know, it would be nice to have been in the loop here.”

“It looks like they landed near the border of Trigeda, Azgeda and Ouskejon. It will take weeks to send notice to inform them of the garrison around your people. It is likely that the unit leader will create a defensive line between your camp and the rest of your people. There also might be the threat of Azgeda probing the border.”

Raven shot the other girls a blank look, “do either of you know what he’s saying?” She was getting more aggravated with the blatant ignoring of her questions.

“But you said that warriors on the borders of clans indicate a declaration of war.” Octavia narrowed her eyes in confusion. “Why would this Azgeda clan do that?”

“Azgeda’s Queen and Heda have a very...tense relationship, as do Trikru with the majority of Azgeda. There’s bad blood that no fire of purification can cleanse the pain of the past.”

“If there’s bad blood, why have you unified in a treaty?” Clarke asked. “Octavia has been telling me some things,” she shrugged off the intense questioning gaze of the Grounder.

“Because Heda does not like to see her people suffer. The wars that separated our clans was waged until maybe six years ago, and she is the only commander who has striven to unify the known world. She is a force of nature, wiser than the ones who have led us in the past.” 

“And where do we fall in this ‘vision’ of hers?” Raven asked, clenching her jaws tightly as they walked slowly through the brush.

“That is still indeterminable, no one can dream to know what goes on inside her head.”

“That’s why she’s ordered your unit leader here to observe us - so she can figure it out, right?” Clarke asked the man. They approached a familiar area when Octavia began to slow her pace. “Why do you talk about her like she’s some kind of God?”

“I don’t think it matters right now. At least we haven’t done something to attract her full attention. Raven, switch with me,” the Latina’s brows shot to her hairline. “Switch with me so we can get into cover.” the mechanic sighed and grasped the man’s wrist hesitantly, her eyes suspiciously sizing the injured man up, and allowing Octavia to pick up the false forest floor near the oak tree and lean it up against the trunk. 

“What happens when we rise to an infamous status?” Clarke asked, already fearing she knew the answer.

“Then Heda will throw the might of the twelve clans at your people until you run out of bullets. The Armies will swarm you until there is nothing left.” Clarke and Raven felt themselves swallow the lump forming in their throats. “But your people would need to commit direct atrocities against her people for that to happen.”

“But right now, everything we’ve done is out of defense, it’s not like it’s outright murder,” Octavia said as she returned to reclaim her position by Lincoln’s side. “Go on inside and spot us.” She nodded to Raven.

“It’s empty, right?” The mechanic eyed the dark entry hesitantly, fingering the gun on her hips as she crouched down near it, attempting to peer through the darkness. “So your leader is a queen bee. Awesome.”

“Yes, it’s all clear, Rae.”

“She is more of a wolf than she is a bee,” Lincoln answered.

Raven dropped into the hole and moved forward, pressing her back to the thick soil. Clarke jumped down after her and helped Octavia lower Lincoln into the hole before the youngest girl joined them. They slid into the hollowed tree trunk and lowered Lincoln onto the furs. Octavia began to tend to the fire, eventually bathing the alcove in fire light. “So she’s like the stereotypical ‘white girl’ from before the world ended, saying shit like ‘oh my God, a wolf is totally my ‘spirit animal’,” the Latina snarked. “You know, when I learned what a tree house was, I wasn’t expecting this.”

“I would recommend that should you ever cross paths, you don’t outright insult her, unless you would like her shadows to take ill will to you.” Lincoln shook his head as he settled onto the soft bedding.

∞∞∞

Abby wiped the sweat from her eyes and took a look around her. She could see several of the guards as well as Marcus Jackson and Sinclair coming to with groans of pain from their rough landing as well. Their radios crackled to life, but no messages were received. Something must have been jamming the signal. 

The doctor stood on unsteady feet and slowly made her way around the crowded facility. Of the 76 shoved in the metal station like sardines, only eight were lifeless due to the rough landing. Upon the initial check of the survivors, most ruled that they were just a little banged up, but no worse for wear. 

Marcus approached and lifted the ladder that led to the hatch to get out of the station off of the ground and sighed. “Must have come off in the landing, damn it.” He lowered the metal to the floor.

“Come on Marcus,” Sinclair smiled tiredly, “we’ve fixed worse problems with a roll of duct tape before. This shouldn’t be that much of a problem.”

“I don’t think that duct tape will solve the problem that it broke off of the welded points. It’s not going to bear our weight,” Kane retorted with a scowl. 

“Can’t we just stack the supply crates and then team lift out what we can carry?” Jackson suggested reasonably, gesturing over to the overturned heavy metal crates pressing against the net that thankfully stayed secured. 

“We can send people out to get what we can’t carry later. Especially after my teams get the rovers up and running,” Sinclair suggested.

Abby took hold of a tablet and tapped the screen. It glowed to life. She selected the geo-location signals that were being broadcasted. Thankfully their signal was not jammed like the radios were. “We landed by some water. Maybe a lake - here. And the kid’s drop ship’s signal is coming from somewhere east of this location, maybe four miles away.” Abby smiled softly, eager to reunite with her daughter. She was worried about the radio silence from Clarke, but Raven assured her that Clarke had taken to becoming their camp’s doctor, so she usually had her hands full. “We can get to them in a little over an hour.”

“Well, why waste time?” Jackson smiled softly at his mentor who nodded back with small grin of her own.

“You three,” Marcus nodded to the stoic guards who were stretching and regaining their motor functions. “Help me move the crates. There’s a lot more to see than just one another.”

“Sure thing, Counselor Kane,” Scott said as he placed the strap of his gun over his shoulders and moved his weapon to his back. “Come on guys,” he gestured with his head as he braced the crate pressing against the netting. With the two other guards, Jackson and Kane, holding the storage container, Sinclair unfastened the netting secured by the locking carabiner. It clinked against the metal floor. The head of Engineering helped the other men lower the crate to the floor and push it underneath the hatch. “Push!” 

Those not helping with moving storage began to collect the things that would be vital to carry along with them. Abby shouldered a large pack with her pilfered medical supplies as well as a small backpack containing pre-packaged food, water and a tent. Others grabbed firearms, tools, radios, tablets and their corresponding ports.

“I just hope everyone else made it though okay,” Marcus wiped the sweat collecting at his upper lip with his sleeve. “Everyone should have beacons so if their stations did the same as ours we can find them with ease.”

“That’s not entirely true,” Sinclair stepped up besides the councilman. “The beacons broadcast the same FM frequency that the radios do. If something’s jamming them, I would bet that it’s jamming the homing mechanisms of the station’s beacon.”

“So for now, we find the drop ship, then find the coordinates where the rest of the Ark landed, and then reunite with our people.” Abby surmised.

“Ladies first,” Sinclair gestured to Abby with a smile, offering a hand to the doctor to get onto the crates they stacked to make a stairway to reach the top hatch. She smiled and took his hand before taking the first step to freedom.

Upon opening the hatch, Abby couldn’t help but gasp and gape in awe at the crystalline blue of the lake, the mossy overgrowth and what was once known as the blue ridge mountains once upon a time. Her smile was as radiant as the sun itself. A flock of birds flew overhead, gliding against the blue sky dotted with fluffy white clouds.

“What’s going on? Is everything okay, Abby?” Marcus asked from below.

“Its fine, it’s just - it’s beautiful,” she breathed the fresh lake air. Shaking the wonder from her mind for a moment, Abby put her medical bag on the outer hull of the station and climbed out so the others may follow. 

One by one, the survivors exited and jumped to the ground, the soft, dewy grass in the morning sun. They breathed deeply, there was no question whether or not there was enough oxygen to survive. 

Kane stepped forward. “Sinclair, take everyone over to where the Ark landed at these coordinates. Abby, Jackson and you three are with me. We’re going to head over to the 100’s camp and bring them along with us.” Kane placed the coordinates from his tablet into a direct message to the chief engineer. Scott and two other guards separated themselves from the rest of the survivors to stand behind Kane. “Let’s move now, no sense in wasting daylight.”

The eerie silence of the woods en route to the kid’s camp were disrupted by the far off sounds of a fight. Gunfire and savage war cries filled the air to the northern paths. “They could be in trouble!” Abby gasped, fear resonating in her bones.  
  
“Let’s move it, get them back up!” Kane gestured with two fingers in the direction of the skirmish as the six gripped their weapons and bags tightly as they quickened their pace.

What the hell had they fallen into?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter. 
> 
> I didn't want to do a repeat on the Jobi high, seeing as they would have come to an understanding that Jobi nuts were a hallucinogenic because of the serum the 100 ingested to ease the hemorrhagic fever, so alcohol all the way. 
> 
> So now that the Ark is on the ground, we're going to start cresting into the main issues between Trikru and Skaikru (It's about time, I know, I've been bullying myself over getting to the point and getting our girl introduced and shit). So I can honestly promise next chapter! (World building is fun and all, but jeez...)
> 
> I hope the freak out was in character for Raven. I have a feeling that she would go off and then bury her feelings under work and then make snide comments and attempt at humor as a coping mechanism.
> 
> Now we find out who 'Ashes' is (please don't hate me!) Most of the descriptions of Ashes is in reference to the Black Footed Cat native to Africa. These things are pretty fucking cute, and have a higher kill rate than all of the feline species: they may not hunt huge prey like gazelles or anything but they have a 60% kill rate of their prey, as opposed to a lion or panther's 25%, making them to be the most deadly feline. And lets be for real: Anya had the potential to be killer AF.
> 
> Foreshot is made of methanol which can explode into an invisible flame (super scary stuff). There was an '80's NASCAR race or something, i think, where a mechanic and the driver actually got set aflame and the techs and paramedics used a shit ton of extinguishing chemicals to put it out. Without context it looks goofy, but knowing the context that shit is like woah.
> 
> How we doing so far?
> 
> Thank you for reading! And as always, feel free to leave me a comment!


	7. It's Got Your Name Written on it

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Alpha Station survivors breech a battle site and help an unexpected survivor; they realize Earth is a bit of a mess. The leadership of the Ark stands on the precipice of a mess themselves.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello, and welcome back! 
> 
> This is still unbeta'd, so any mistakes are my own!
> 
> So, just as a forewarning, there is some blood and war-like themes in this chapter. And we'll start going downhill from here.
> 
> Now, this is definitely my first time actively trying to write ABO dynamic, so I'm still trying to find the correct jargon/ descriptors and whatnot, so riot in the comments if it's...janky. I dunno, I guess I still need to practice it and consume more ^.^
> 
> Please enjoy!

The sounds of a battle died down the longer it took for the detachment of soldiers, the politician and the two doctors to reach the skirmish site. Worry clenched their hearts. They hoped they were not too late. At the very least, for the time being, the kids inside their camp were safe. The ones stuck out here, they were not. 

Jackson cried out when he tripped over something in the bushes. “I’m okay,” he reassured when the rest of the group spun around to respond to his distress. He looked down and felt around for what his foot caught on. His fingers clasped around something firm, but also soft. What could it be? He raised the obstacle up with a grunt of exertion. A boot attached to a bloody, meaty leg rose with his efforts. He immediately dropped it back to the ground and stumbled back, wiping his hands on his shirt. “That’s - He’s dead.”

“Then we made it to the battleground. Stay close together. They could still be here,” Kane rose the automatic firearm to aim down it’s sights as his dark eyes scanned the mossy trees, sweat dripping down his brow. 

“Marcus, I don’t think anyone’s here,” Abby whispered as she pointed over to the right, “look there.”

Eyes widened as they took in the sight of the bodies strewn about unceremoniously. They all seemed to be bloodied grounders, if the primitive weapons, improvised armor, braids and tattoos were to be believed. The hulking masses of strong bodied men and women were almost larger than life than the kids explained. Did they fight with one another? The 100 reported that grounders don’t use guns, though. “Still, be on your guard.” Kane ordered. 

Slowly they crept through the area. A frown of consideration creased at Abby’s forehead when she caught sight of a group of bodies wearing green environmental suit and rifles besides them. She crouched next to one of the corpses and slowly turned it over and recoiled at the sight of the burnt flesh of the man inside the radiation suit. “Well, we know who was firing.” The man had curious equipment attached to his waist. A black rod with an on and off switch attracted Abby’s attention. She turned it on and a high pitched tone wailed from it. She shut it off. What could it possibly be used for? She removed the item and placed it in the side pouch of her bag. Maybe Sinclair can find a purpose for it.

“Pilfering bodies now, Abby? You just couldn’t stop at medicine, huh?” Kane asked with a brow raised.

“Cause of death is radiation,” she turned to Kane with unimpressed eyes as her fingers caught the hole in the man’s suit at the shoulder, most likely from the blade embedded in the tree over his head which pinned a green material to the trunk. “I would estimate he burned alive for a good minute before he died.” She unnecessarily added as if to shove the fact in Marcus’s face when he once suggested the elevated vitals on the children were them dying. It was petty, but she couldn’t find herself caring much. “And I figured that Sinclair could use all he can get.” 

“Fair point. There’s still some bodies down the way.” Marcus turned to the tree and examined the dagger. The brown wooden handle was firm and smooth decorated with two metal bands at the top and base with raised bumps. The blade had a beautiful wave like pattern burned into it. It actually looked more like a dirk than a dagger made of damascus steel. He grasped the hilt and wriggled it free from the tree and stored it in the chest band of his bag.

“There’s a breather!” Scott called from the trees that they hadn’t checked yet. Abby stood before she and Kane moved to the man’s position. 

Abby appraised the young woman who appeared to be struggling to breathe, she must have lost consciousness a little while ago. She was sitting straight up against the tree behind her. Black warpaint was smeared across the woman’s eyes to her hairline by her temples, her chestnut hair was pulled back into intricate braids, now a matted mess as it was tangled with leaves, twigs, blood and...ink? She appeared to be athletically built, tall, and young. She couldn’t have been much older than her own daughter. The grounder’s clothes were soaked, as was the shoulder guard that kept the red cloth over her left arm in place. The ink was spilled on that too. “Lie her on her back.” Abby ordered finally.

Scott and one of the guards took the Grounder by the shoulders and unceremoniously dropped her on the ground, ignoring Abby’s hiss of ‘carefully’. There was more ink on the trees. Did this girl carry it on her or something? Abby unclasped the shoulder guard and undid the buckles on her black coat, revealing an off grey shirt beneath it. She was shot, and the ink was coming from her body. Her blood was black! The viscous liquid stained Abby’s fingers as well as the young woman’s shirt. Abby breathed quieting the slew of questions pushing at her mind. Could this be due to the radiation? Well, all the other's wounds were stained crimson. It would be justifiable that humans would change in some way. Some would be more affected than others, but this was something else entirely. 

“Abby, what are you doing?” Marcus asked.

“I’m helping her.” At the disapproving or uneasy grunt the Marcus made, the Doctor looked up with a withering stare. “The Hippocratic Oath still stands, Marcus.” She turned to the guardsmen. “I need one of you to deploy my tent for me while I try to slow the bleeding.” Hesitantly, the men moved to unclasp the doctor’s red tent from the clips at the bottom of the bag. Jackson moved to his medical supplies and removed a scalpel. “We need to move her inside first, Jackson. Marcus, help us lift her.”

The councilman sighed as he pushed the gun to his back before grasping the girl’s thick boots by the ankles while Jackson slid his hands under her shoulders. Abby supported her waist and muscle bound back. They grunted in a combined effort - she was heavier than she looked, and the dead weight wasn't helping much. Kane went first through the tent and lowered her legs to the ground and stood aside so he could afford the doctors to practice their craft. “Scott-” he called the guard. “Deploy your tents, we might be here for a while.”

“Yes sir.”

Abby and Jackson took their scalpels and began carefully cutting the very strong material of the girl’s coat to get it off her back untangling the metal wires through the fabric, followed by the thin grey shirt. Her legs were uninjured, so they left her pants and boots on. “Abby, are you seeing this too?” Jackson said with worry filling his eyes.

The woman’s bare torso was covered in scars, some pale and faded from long ago, others almost grey in color. She had tattoos lining her right bicep around the strong, well defined muscles, and another, a bird on her sternum and defined abdominals, where the head rested between her breasts and the tail feathers reached her navel. The wingspan stretched underneath her breasts. In the center of the tribal pattern, there was a distinct bullet hole. It didn’t perforate her body. Jackson raised her right arm and assessed the damage of other grazes on the warrior woman’s body. Some looked like scratch marks and others looked fresh from a blade. “Do they...are those brands I’m seeing?” Abby asked him as she pushed a cloth gauze into the wound on her sternum. 

“There are - thirteen of them.” Eric said as he cleaned the wounds and began to stitch them up. “It looks self inflicted, too. What kind of people are they?” Jackson trailed off. 

“Obviously they’re war born. Must be territorial too, if just the 100’s landing prompted them to attack. But it seems like with how many bodies are in this field, it’s like they’re just toying with them. These people are capable of so much more than what the kids know. If the 100 engaged them in a war, they wouldn’t stand a chance.” Marcus surmised with a sigh. “If there's a faction war or something, no one's safe. We need to get to them soon.” 

“I want nothing more than to do that right now, Marcus, but I’m going to try to save her first.” She tapped on the tablet to her right and began to scan the woman’s body in an attempt to find the bullet that remained. “The bullet seemed to be lodged between the skin and muscle by her upper right scapula.” She showed Jackson the screen that followed the trajectory of the bullet through the Grounder’s body. It pierced through the diaphragm, indicating why she was having such a hard time breathing. It also seemed to ricochet off of clenched muscles which pushed it up through the muscles lining her upper back. This girl was incredibly lucky that it missed more critical systems within her body, and that they got to her when they did, else she would have easily bled out. 

Abby was going to ensure what she preached to Marcus what seemed like ages ago was a policy she would follow, now they were planet-side. She would ensure they deserved to survive, one deed at a time.

“She’s right Counselor, we can’t just not help someone in need. That, and she could be a viable source for information.” Jackson reasoned with the councilman. “If this girl lives, she can be an in to negotiating with her people, and she could vouch for us. I think that’s how it could work.”

“Just don’t use too much of our supplies that we don’t have any for our people.” Kane finally relented.

Abby began to clean the entry wound, and stitched it up beautifully when the woman’s breathing picked up once more. “Abby, she’s waking up.” Jackson warned. 

“Get her a dose of morphine, I can’t work on her if she’s moving.” Or hostile, Abby’s mind supplied. 

Blazing green eyes bore into the very soul of Abby when her attention was drawn to the too tight, bruising grip around her wrist. The girl had a deep scowl pinching at her brow, and her face was contorted in a snarl. “It’s okay, I’m here to help you. Jackson is going to give you something to ease the pain.” Her head snapped out of the way from Jackson’s hands which held a needle with a clear substance within. She mustered a strength Abby couldn’t fathom and pushed her off before grabbing Jackson’s wrist and smashing her fist against the man’s jaw, knocking him over, and dazing him with the strength of the punch.

The Grounder released pheromones demanding the people hovering over her submit. They wouldn’t stop touching her! Her frustration grew as the obstinate fools failed to heed her command. The alpha in her reeled and thrashed in the forefront of her mind at the blatant dismissal of its power. Who did these people think they were? How could they instinctively resist? Anger and chiefly frustration was easily flaring her nostrils and grinding her teeth, and the slight narrowing of her piercing eyes. Her fingers found a thin piece of metal.

“Easy! Easy!” Abby tried placating the bloody Grounder with palms stretched outward. Her eyes widened in recognition when she saw the young woman brandishing Jackson’s scalpel that laid on the bag directly to her right side. Even with Kane’s firearm poised to strike her down, there was no fear in her eyes. She just seemed mildly annoyed with the threat. “We’re trying to fix you up!” Recognition registered in the young woman’s eyes as she looked at the much cleaner supplies than what she knows her people to use. “We’re just trying to help you. You were shot, and you've just undone the stitches. Can you tell us what happened?”

The young woman’s shrewd eyes scanned their faces back and forth and back again. It seemed her mind was working in a double time to figure out an escape from these people. But with the snub nosed automatic rifle leveled at her head, it was not likely. Were they Skaikru? They appeared very much like the mountain, save for the lack of a green full body suit. Her eyes remained largely unamused. If there was a moment to fight, this was not one of them. She could almost hear Anya rehashing a lesson learned long ago: you're never helpless in a situation - use the time you have to gather as much information as you can to make the most informed decision. She would have much preferred her mentor's method of delivering the lesson by hanging her upside down by a rope over a hornet's nest than laying at these stranger's mercy with a gunshot wound, though.

She raised her left hand and turned the scalpel in her right so the blade was facing her. She held the handle out to Jackson who took it hesitantly. Marcus lowered his gun.

“Does she even understand us?” Eric asked his mentor who shrugged and slowly moved to resume her work at the grounder’s torso. 

“I don’t know, but I wish we had some local anesthetic to spare so this isn’t agony for her. I’m sorry.” Abby refused to flinch under the girl’s unwavering stare. The young warrior didn’t even flinch when she took advantage of the upright position the warrior sat in as she began to extricate the bullet from her back and use gauze pinched between her long forceps to roughen up the inside of the wound so healthier cells would regenerate. This couldn’t be a pleasant process for her.

“Yu gon breik ai au taim yu odon?” Her voice was steady in spite of the intrusion of their equipment in her body.

The occupants of the tent halted in their movements at the woman’s foreign tongue, or rather, the native tongue. She spoke clearly, quickly and direct. She wasn’t the type to mince words. Too bad they didn’t understand what she just said. “There’s a language barrier,” Marcus sighed, “making peace with them is going to be that much harder, now.”

Let them think what they will. This unfortunate circumstance would hopefully yield some kind of favorable result. Even if she needed to be captured in order to do so. If their desire for peace was true, they would have to convince her. And now a perceived language barrier was established, they might be more inclined to speak freely because of her apparent ignorance. Abby and Jackson carefully returned her to her back to focus on her stomach once more.

“Hey Counselor!” Scott called from the other tent. 

“Check the port, outside, looks like yellow fog.”

Marcus opened the flap to view the plastic window shielding them from the outside. Marcus went to investigate. He flinched at the strong grasp around his ankle that stopped him in his tracks. His eyes followed the scarred arm up to the humorless Grounder’s face. Abby was shooting them a curious look as she and Jackson worked. “Yu gaf gothru klin an frag osir op sentaim?”

“I don’t know what you’re saying.” Kane spoke slowly but politely, hoping his words would strike something familiar in the patient’s brain like Abby's words did. He over accentuated his gesture of a shrug and pointed to his ear trying to use body language to convey what he wanted her to understand. She pointed to the window and then gestured her thumb across her throat. “The fog is deadly?” A blank stare really didn’t answer his question, but the miming of a slit throat was universal. “Scott!” Marcus called back to the guards who brought his attention to the conditions outside. “Don’t open your tent, it might be dangerous.”

 “10-4 Counselor.”

 ∞∞∞ 

_Earlier, Polis Tower_

She ignored the wriggling displeasure eating away at her being. Why was it so difficult for people to follow simple directions? The note in between her long fingers could have been easily ignited by the heat of her green eyes. Tris, the young blonde who was her mentor’s current seken quickly left her quarters after delivering a succinct status report as well as formal complaint Anya had against Tristan - again. 

Her command was simple: 'Anya, observe the people falling from the sky. Tristan, maintain a five mile perimeter around them to keep them contained so no harm could potentially reach any of the neighboring villages. Do not engage unless they violate the border or attack you first. Do not interject yourself or your warriors in Anya’s scout’s area of operation'. 

Nowhere in those orders did she ever mention that they could go on a hunt for the sky people. She grit her teeth as she resisted the urge to rub her temples. 

Anya requested to work with Indra. Unfortunately for everyone, Indra was needed with the rest of the generals Anya got along with to quell the Mountain’s curiosity. The longer these children were out and about seeking...whatever they were, the more active the Mountain became. 

That could only indicate that they were neither allies nor were they enemies of their long time enemies. What did these children want? She recognized that they were capable of damage, as she heard them repel an attack from starving clanless wolves with minimal weapons, mostly improvised. The level of ingenuity they possess makes them dangerous. That was without question. 

A knock on the heavy oaken door broke the brunette’s attention from the copious amount of journals on her desk and from the distracted movement of worrying the slip of paper between her fingers as she consulted her predecessor's knowledge they were kind enough to record. 

If only there was a method to see the past and feel what the past commanders experienced. She shook her head. That was a fantasy that bordered on lunacy. “Min yu op.”

The door creaked open revealing an older woman with greying hair, and deep lines creasing her face. “Heda.”

“Elena,” the commander greeted with a nod of her head as she turned her body to indicate she had her full attention. “Is there something wrong? 

The old woman smiled. “I was only wondering if the newer handmaiden ensured that you were given food and you’ve actually eaten.” She stepped in and closed the door behind her after the young leader nodded. 

“I have not taken to a meal, though that is without a lack of trying from your people. I simply am not hungry as of this time.” She waved a dismissive hand. The handmaidens learned quite quickly not to beat around the bush with the ever busy alpha woman. “What have you heard? What have you seen?” The green eyed young woman asked as the elderly handmaiden sat upon the sofa with her hands folded demurely in front of her.

“Azgeda’s ambassador has been taking private congress with the other ambassadors. Each one at a time. Katya heard that he is attempting to drum up discourse to convince the others to make a stand - to use the rights you gave them to remove you from your position.” Elena crossed her legs and brushed the fabric of the calf that was suspended. “I have also heard that they are trying to capitalize on the fact that the warriors of Trigeda are even becoming impatient with you by the actions the general at the garrison, rather, his warriors, are taking. They believe we have seen enough to determine these people are a threat to ours. He has an argument that beseeches each ambassador's needs. He really is quite a slippery eel, Heda." 

Keeping an impassive face, Lexa’s eyes intently stared at the Elena. “I see.” She needed to intervene, she concluded quickly. There were far too many issues with no solution. Indra’s report of increased activity from Mount Weather was alarming alone. The stirring of a coup d'etat was agitating at minimal, though especially dangerous the more the fire is fed, as the whole legacy of succession of their people resided in one place. If a coup were to take place, who’s to say they wouldn’t execute the other Night Bloods and put someone in charge that does not know where to find the recorded wisdom of the past? The order of the blood would owe them no loyalty - everyone would be tossed back into the raging tides of civil war that she personally sacrificed so much over, and bled over to end. 

The Skaikru were an annoyance, but they were essentially harmless so long as they stayed within their zone until more information was gathered. Except for the fact that Lincoln was taken captive and was injured in an explosion, once again, because of the ‘initiative’ Tristan and his warrior’s showed. But there were apparently some Skaikru who were sympathetic to Lincoln. She wanted to hold firm in her belief that they could come to an agreement verbally, without anymore bloodshed.

Sometimes our greatest qualities were our greatest downfalls. For Tristan, his ambition; for Titus, his love (no matter how much he says that love was weakness); Gustus even had his loyalty that could quite easily get him or someone else killed. Her longing for peace would be the death of her, and she had already accepted that fact.  

Though, she was of the mind to show fairness if it was warranted while she still had breath in her lungs. The individuals who did not go out of their way to cause problems would have her sympathetic ear and open mind, those who chose to decide to choose the path to attempt to take advantage of the passes she has already given them would incite a war. She has already made her peace with this fact. The ones who were held in a higher esteem would at least be given a choice by these standards.

She made a quick list in her mind beginning with the first task, which was to aid Indra in pushing the Mountain Men back from the cave they crawled out of to at least buy her more time to respond to the Skaikru problem. Two would be to find and issue a parley with the ones Anya indicated were most likely to speak with her and task them to ensure the rest of their people are true in their desire to have peace. 

If she could do that, she would happily return to the usual world crushing problems. 

“Thank you Elena. I will not hold you from your duties any longer. If you would, send word to the stable master to have my horse prepared.”

“Of course Commander.” Elena bowed her head before she glided across the stone floor to the door. 

Lexa gracefully rose to her feet and began cleaning up the mess of books. She withdrew a few stones from the floor and deposited some of the sacred texts into the hidden compartment before standing once again. 

She packed a spare set of clothes, some journals, and utensils for writing and drawing. She removed an empty water skin from a shelf by the door as well as an empty food satchel. She shouldered her bag, wrapped the food bag and water skin around her torso before she clipped her shoulder guard over her shoulder and tossed her coat over her forearm. It was supposed to be achingly hot that day, as the heat bugs were already rattling so early in the morning, even though they were entering well into Autumn. Such is the way of the false summer. 

She nodded to the guards standing by outside her door, dismissing them. She produced a key from a hidden pocket in her shirt and secured the door to her quarters. “Jorum,” she addressed the lumbering blonde man from Sangedakru. “Walk with me.”

“Sha Heda,” he took position behind her to her right flank as she walked. 

“Jorum, I am entrusting the security of Polis to you. You will be reporting directly to Titus each day, and you will oversee the day to day operations until I return.”

“What of Keiden?”

“I require Keiden’s presence with me.”

“You honor me with this task Heda, I will not fail you.”

Lexa, flanked by Gustus, Ryder and Keiden, met with the stable master who held her massive black horse’s reins in one hand. The stubborn horse bucked, snorted and stamped his hooves in displeasure at being touched by anyone other than his rider. He flicked his head so hard, the braids in his mane nearly whipped the stable hand. 

“Easy Thjazi.” the Commander cooed to the beast as she claimed the reins and stroked the long nose. Her hand patted the deep set muscle of the horse’s shoulder before she moved to his flank and secured her bag to the rear seat. She mounted the horse in one swift movement. 

Soon, the four were astride their horses and ready to make the long journey west to where the concerning reports were originating from.

They made camp not long before the sky fell once again. “More of them?” Ryder huffed in displeasure.

* * *

 

It was all routine when she arrived that morning. She disbursed the generals with a specific amount of warriors. They would engage with the Mountain Men who hunted them with Reapers. They would dodge through the trees to make the men waste their munitions, and the guaranteed sniper who was in a poacher’s nest wouldn’t be able to get a clear shot. A scout would track the sniper and attempt to dispatch them while the rest of the force would dispatch the reapers first by the cover of the forest and by hit and run tactics. The Mountain Men would lose a few gunmen before communicating to the detachment to retreat back to base and they would release the burning fog, making everyone evacuate and find shelter. 

That’s how it always plays out. No one ever changed tactics. Until the mountain decided to that morning.

Though she had long prepared a strategy to any change of unit tactic, she found herself still fighting with a few bullet holes that grazed her torso. Her breathing ragged, the automatic rifle fire clapping in the early morning air. She was losing too much blood, and she couldn’t justify the heavy losses they were taking. “Teik em laud, tromon-de!” She hollered over the screams of war. They were said to be moving in a fan like patrol of even quantities when last she heard. Three Mountain men with five reapers overlooked by a sniper heading in all directions. Her units were within a range to reinforce whoever sounded their horn, they only needed to hold their own until they arrived. 

For some reason the mountain decided to band together and converge on her and her unit, making the force she was dealing with three times larger than expected. She didn’t have the bodies to accommodate the increased stress: they were out matched by their tek, more than outnumbered, really. The weapons the Mountain used easily made up for the bodies populating the battlefield. 

At the blast of the horn echoing through the forest, the remaining detachment fighting along side of their Commander fought with tireless hearts. Some surprised the Mountain Men by tossing their weapons aside or at them to gain some distance before shifting and snapping their monstrous canines at them or swiping at them with dagger sharp claws, seemingly unperturbed by the weapons fire.

The truth was they were terrified. 

Gustus’s detachment, close by, flanked the mountain men, barreling through them like a tidal wave breaking upon a shore with a devastating fury. Some overshot and took them down the hill stabbing and biting all the way as the men screamed in pain at the radiation licking their flesh, or raged in fury, snapping their human jaws back voraciously. 

There were commands being shouted by the Mountain Men as they withdrew. The force of Lexa’s that remained were separated from Gustus and his detail by a throng of hungry Reapers. “Retreat!” A Mountain Man cried. “These Outsiders are crazy!” They were not expecting such a swift counter that was a gamble with time and distance.

A few made to move exactly as the retreating man indicated. He spun around and aimed down his sights to cover his own exit. He noted a warrior with a pulled bowstring, ready to fire upon the reapers. His weapon popped and the boy fell to the ground. His gaze turned to the snarling woman with green eyes blacked out by intimidating warpaint who was locked in combat with a reaper easily twice her size. 

A deep slice to the mindless monster’s side with her dagger rendered him a clear shot. She caught his eye and launched her dagger instinctively without aiming. His weapon clapped and she recoiled as the bullet pierced her torso. 

She stumbled back with gritted teeth as the reaper regained himself and returned to his attack, knocking her off of her feet and sending them both down a small hill where she smacked against a tree with a grunt of discomfort and out right pain. 

The man who fired the shot that sent the Outsider falling down the hill screamed in pain that originated at his shoulder. He reached over and felt a tear in the material of his environmental suit. He quickly spotted the dagger embedded in the tree that was the cause of his demise. He couldn't patch the tear fast enough.

Lexa breathed heavily as she held the reaper at bay as best she could with a hand on his shoulder. His nails gouged and scraped her flesh as his teeth snapped in her face. Drool and blood seeped through his lips as he mindlessly craved his next meal. The bone white paint accentuated the blood coating his tanned skin and dark eyes. 

Her right hand grasped at the ground at her side as she tried to find a weapon. She found purchase on a rather long and sturdy twig broken off a tree, either by nature, or shattered by gunfire, it didn't matter much to her. She only hoped it was long enough.

Mustering her strength, she drove the stick through his eye and pierced his brain before tearing the wood out of the man she once knew and fought besides with a saddened scowl. Bloodied fingers traced the man’s forehead before pulling his eyelids closed. “Yu gonplei ste odon,” she sighed. 

Gazing to her left and right, she only saw corpses. She could hear the cries of the fleeing Mountain Men hollering orders over their black boxes to their people inside the Mountain and to one another. She knew what came next. 

She reached behind her and pulled a horn that was cracked in the fall she took with the reaper on top of her. She sounded a retreat from the impending burning fog.

If fate would have her end now, she would ensure the most of her warriors survived the day. They could always return later to ensure she was given her last rites if they so pleased.

The next time she woke up was a soft looking woman and man probing at her wounds with another man with slicked back hair armed with the Mountain's cursed weapons standing over her. She did what she knew best: fight, and reverse the situation even though they had the power in this interaction. 

The woman kept mentioning a girl by the name of Clarke, which rang familiar to her because of Anya’s reports. Lexa figured it would be prudent to listen to help garner an opinion. At least, she could keep the obvious newcomers from killing them all because of their evident ignorance to the conditions of the ground. 

∞∞∞ 

The progress of the Ark camp was underway rather smoothly in the last sixteen hours. The recent arrival of Jacapo Sinclair and the survivors of Alpha station’s crash yielded quick help because of their willingness to drop their gear and set up a perimeter of scraped parts that was an actual fence. Shumway looked over the plans Sinclair submitted after delegating tasks quickly. 

If anything he was appreciative of the Chief’s work ethic.  

“How are things progressing, Commander?” His eyes leveled with the Chancellor who reclined in her seat casually, as though a queen observing the battle plans of her empire. 

“Quite well, Chancellor Sydney. I can say with positivity, these savages won’t know what hit ‘em if they get too close if the plans come out right. Apparently the electricity they’re thinking of hooking up would be enough to send a horse airborne.” He handed the blueprint to the blonde who looked it over with a keen eye.

“Surely a boon for Arkadia.” She nodded. “And what of our stores?” 

“We have enough food for our people for the next week, if we tighten our belts on the rations. We need to pull the stops out if we’re going to make sure we survive the winter.” 

“I see.” Diane made a thoughtful noise. “Then I want you and your teams to pull out the stops. Hunting parties go out every day. If you come across some of these..." She trailed off. "Grounders, try and convince them it’s within their best interest to help us. If they don’t give us what we want, you are free to deal with it as you see fit.”

Shumway and Sydney maintained eye contact for a long time. “Can we justify this? Can we justify it won’t cause an uprising?”

“Our people will be happier if they are fed and warm when the winter hits. We must do what we must in order to survive. Aside from that, we are at war with these people, so they wouldn’t hesitate killing us.” Diane responded succinctly. “You have your orders to do what you deem necessary Commander.” 

“Understood Ma’am.” 

Shumway turned on his heel and exited the reconstructed council room into the dirt strewn main encampment. “Lieutenant Byrne!” He called the blonde woman training with four cadets in the yard with a clenched jaw. He could tell that she didn’t hold these people with much esteem just by her posture alone. “Round your cadets up. We’re on field exercises.”

Byrne frowned, “Commander, shouldn’t we have more experienced guards go on patrol beyond the gate first before we send cadets out?”

“Everyone will get their field exercises in. Considering this is new for all of us, we’re all cadets on the ground until we learn what we’re up against.” He responded to the blonde. His attention turned to the cadets. “Sound off. Who’s here?”

“Harris, Sir!” A blonde boy saluted with his lips down turned into a stern expression despite his novice status.

“Gretz, Sir!” A young woman with a black french braid saluted next.

“Samson, reporting, Sir!” Another young man with a service cap saluted.

“Zaleski, sir!” The last young woman with short cropped hair saluted.

“Are you lacking motivation, Zaleski!?” Shumway hollered as he approached the girl who buttoned up tighter. “Sound off!” He nodded his head when the girl was loud enough to satisfy his demand. “By the chancellor’s order, we’re going to upscale our patrols to chart the area as well as scrounge up some chow to add to our stores. Congratulations, you are the Pathfinder initiative.” 

Shumway regarded the cadets with a critical eye. “Have you been outfitted and tested on firearms and passed your squalls?”

“Yes Sir!” The small detachment sounded.

“Excellent. I want you to double time to the armory and get your firearms and return here. You have five minutes. Move!”  

Byrne eyed the sprinting cadets before turning her attention to her commanding officer. “I’m not too sure about this being a good idea, Terry. They’re greener than the grass.”

“Well, they’re going to have to expedite their training. None of us know what’s going on here. The one hundred are still in their camp, so we haven’t spoken to them about conditions. We don’t know tactics of these people, we don’t know what’s lurking out there. We need information, and we need all hands on deck. We have more of the command missing, the Ensigns and Lieutenant, Junior Grades are currently on deck with aiding in the reconstruction. Greico and I are in progress of creating a testing system to broaden our ranks to have specializations in communications, police and security, infantry, as well as other key operations, including scouting and field ops. But we need to buckle it down and make sure everyone can do everything. We need people we can trust to hold the fort while we’re out on ops with the greenhorns.”

“Yes sir,” Lieutenant Byrne sighed. 

The cadets returned slightly out of breath from their run to arm up. “Twenty seconds to spare,” Shumway commented off hand, looking at his watch. “Let’s move out.” 

The Ark guards moved south from their landing point. The living mechanics and engineers managed to hook a gate up to a generator to allow the gate to be opened by a press of a button, operated by a Lieutenant, Junior Grade. He saluted as they passed, an emotion they couldn’t place burning in his eyes at seeing the four cadets pass his checkpoint with the Commander and Lieutenant.

Old road signs indicated a town called Heritage was located a few miles away from their position. Shumway knew that was where they were going to start. Birds squawked out of sight in the canopy of the trees, their eyes jumped back and forth on the path for any perceived threats. 

It was just...empty.

They continued the path down the way for another mile until they found themselves at the top of a ravine overlooking a small podunk little village built within the ruins of what could only have been the old town of Heritage’s ruins. It was sleepy enough, but Shumway gave the order to lay in a prone position to avoid detection. They could feel a nice breeze on their faces.

They observed a farmer off loading goods off the far end of the place, what appeared to be a merchant smith woman had her shop set up very nearly right underneath their position. A half dressed couple shouldered equipment from place to place. Upon further inspection it looked to be cement blocks bound in thick ropes on their backs along with a bit of spare wood. They had a mallet attached to their waist. 

They watched as what must have been a cook turn the roast of a large boar over a fire in the village while a cast iron pot steamed with some liquid or another. It was too far out of sight to see exactly what it was. It smelled so fragrant, it very nearly had their mouths watering in a desire to sink their teeth into it. 

A little boy approached, rather, waddled to a coarse looking woman with a sack full of miscellaneous items, each of which she removed from the sack and inspected. She removed a set of bones, “Chit yu mana dula op?” She asked the boy. She removed a large woven blanket, upon unfurling it, it was made of a sturdy hide.

“Ai na jomp in bilaik gona kom Heda. Ai don gon Polis-de op.” He responded, his chest puffing out in pride. “Ai granplei meija kom ai bro. Ai ste ogud!”

“Os kofon, goufa.” She nodded. She handed him a blade and a bow. “Ste yuj, trei kom Polis-de ste iffi.” She warned. “Yu don biyo liedon kom yu nomon, nontu, an bro?”

“Sha!” He scoffed as though it were obvious. “Ai ban au nau. Ai gaf ge der snap!” He grinned.

“Kei, yongon. Gou. Gothru klir.” She smiled at the boy. 

“That kid has to be like barely out of his infantile stage. And he’s got weapons now? What the hell is wrong with them?” Harris whispered aloud. 

Gretz smacked her hand against Harris' arm to quiet him. “Looks like a bogey, no two - east gate.” She reported. 

A man and woman armed with spears, a bow and arrow and swords entered the village, greeting the child who traded a sack of goods for weapons before the kid zoomed past them. They shook their heads at the boy running past the gate. The Arker's blood ran cold when the woman with a hawk like nose scowled and squinted her eyes at the location they were bedding down in.

She shook her head before returning to her conversation. 

They didn’t miss the two armed Grounder’s hands hovering near their weapons. 

“What’s contact looking like?” Zaleski asked the commanding officer. 

“Maintain your position. Do not move. We don’t know if we have a confirmation if they’re hostile or not.”   

∞∞∞ 

Lexa maintained a disinterested facade as the man she learned was Marcus and the woman named Abby shot thinly veiled barbs at one another while the fisa’s assistant finished her stitches with a focused eye. What an interesting bunch they were. They tossed conspiracy theories back and forth about their own leadership. This was a right mess. 

“Abby, I’m only saying this now because I know for certain that the Chancellor would have us under a martial law when we enter camp because of the war with her people.” He nodded to her direction. “We need to be smart about this.” He whispered to ensure the guards in the nearby tent remained ignorant of their conversation. The two medical staff had prior knowledge and held their own speculations about the validity of the current leadership. Especially how she rose to power so suddenly. The timing was all off.

“And you’re the one suggesting that the Chancellor had a part to play in the Mecca station bombing. With no evidence, mind you.” She hissed in return. “I agree, the sequence of events calls to question." She shook her head. "And say you successfully remove Diane from her seat. What’s next? You lead us? No one will follow you because you’re the man who mercilessly threw the book at the issues as though it would magically solve them. Everyone will remember you by your ‘willingness to return us to a cosmic Adam and Eve’.” Marcus appeared to gasp for air like a fish out of water. “I heard that one from Callie before you floated her for a crime you perceived.” She was sure to keep her voice down, as kind as Scott was, he was still quite possibly under the orders of Sydney.

“I will meet with their leader myself to try to negotiate - even if they kill me for it to happen.” The man’s jaw clenched with conviction.

He certainly had the speech of a leader, though Lexa was curious whether or not he would maintain his bravado when he goes to make good on his promise. It appeared to the Grounder that a coup was brewing in their people as well - led by this bickering bunch. 

If this Sidni was guilty of the crimes that Markos was sure she committed, and a more level headed leader rose, perhaps establishing peace between the larger force of Skaikru and the smaller force would be easier established. It would not be the first time she set the grounds for a coup to take place within a clan. The less lives lost in conflict was best to appropriate personnel elsewhere. 

“All done,” the tanned man sighed as he snipped the thread that bound her skin together. He began to remove white gauze and tape. “You’re going to need to keep this clean and dry.” He spoke to her naturally, unsure how to mime his order. He placed the gauze down on the stitched wound on her sides, over the brands, as well as over the bullet wound at the center of her torso. “Abby, she really should be under observation…” he trailed off as he looked to his mentor.

“I’m aware of that, but she doesn’t seem too keen on coming with us, even though it’s within her best interest.” Abby shook her head. “We can’t make her do something she doesn’t want to do.” Lexa blinked before she slowly coiled her body enough to sit up. “You are not okay enough to be doing that right now.” She chided as she put a firm hand on her shoulder. 

The young woman’s brow quirked in challenge before she set her palm flat onto the nylon covered ground, masking a hiss of pain as she persevered to get her feet back under her. Her jaw clenched when she finally noticed the blade hanging from Marcus’s bag. The blade’s sheath was calling it home. The Grounder took the bloodied and cut shirt in her hands with a scowl before she set it aside once again, ignoring the dizziness and the sweat dripping down her brow from exertion. 

“Ah- here.” Jackson called attention to himself as he shrugged the light jacket from his shoulders and offered it to the woman to cover her modesty. “We had to cut your clothes off to access your wounds.”

She recoiled at clinical scent clinging to the garment. Their specific brand of scent was easy to overcome, but the scent of their clothes was more potent and almost made her stomach churn. “If you’re feeling nauseated, you need to sit and take it easy.” She heard Abi chide as she gestured to the floor. She shrugged Jaxon’s jacket on hiding her distaste as well as her discomfort. 

She slowly made her way to Marcus and held her hand out. He frowned. She pointed to the knife. “I don’t think that is a good idea.” Lexa’s jaw worked side to side. She reached for the blade itself and sliced her finger and drew a straight line down his forehead. 

The man recoiled at the feeling of blood on his face. He moved to wipe it away before his hand was grasped tightly in her own. “Yu mana gothru klir. Won sonraun kom won sonraun.” She did the same for Abby and Jackson. She could clearly see the confusion on their faces. She turned to the port, rather plastic window and saw the fog had dissipated. 

“It’s safe?” Marcus asked. Lexa was sure to act as though she hadn’t understood him as she examined the zipper that was supposed to allow egress back into nature. The man took that as an affirmative answer and grasped the zipper and pulled it open, allowing the nylon to drop. As he regained his posture, Lexa quickly grasped her knife from the strap on his chest and returned the blade to its sheath with a serene expression. Marcus was quick to grasp his firearm before she put the weapon away. He recognized the action was not hostile and lowered his own weapon. He nodded at the blade. “That was a good throw then.” He said.

She made a sound of disapproval. “Ste iffi.”

“Wait,” Jackson interjected. “You understood that?” Lexa blinked. She tilted her head in ignorance. She shook her head dismissively before she ducked through the exit of the tent, hiding a grimace. She was followed by the trio. Audible hisses sounded from their lips as they saw the condition of the flesh of the dead, the smell of death and acid potent as it lingered in the air. 

She walked over to the tree they found her against and pulled the broken horn from underneath the dead reaper’s body before flinging it over her shoulder. She walked the area under the watchful eye of the Sky people. She rolled Keiden’s corpse to his back with a sigh. “Yu gonplei ste odon.” She grasped her discarded blade by his side and tucked it under her arm after she closed his eyes. 

They watched as she wet her lips before she pinched her lower lip and released a sharp whistle that echoed through the trees. It made them flinch due to how loud it actually was. The guards who joined them after being given the ‘all clear’, as well as Marcus prepared for the worst, their fingers poised to shoot their weapons at a moment's notice. 

They found themselves staring at the brunette who slowly collected specific pieces of gear from the battlefield. A spear, a broken bow, a discarded quiver, an arm guard which she reattached to her left forearm over Jackson’s jacket. Their brows rose as she reached into the bag of a dead warrior and withdrew something that she clenched her fist before she slid it into the jacket pocket. Her own coat and tattered shirt were slung over a satchel. 

She removed the knife from its sheath and sliced a braid from each warrior’s head and tied off the cut end before placing that back into her pocket, muttering something before she rose. She peeked at the sun before she whistled once more. She found a first aid kit and opened an oily looking liquid before she drank it down in a quick mouthful before discarding the vial, hiding the displeasure on her face.

The stomping feet of a large animal broke the tension of the stand off, making the Sky people recoil in wonder. They had never seen a magnificent and regal beast before. She withdrew what she stowed in her pocket and offered it to the horse. It appeared to be pink and grainy, and seemed to break apart easily. Was that their version of a sugar cube?

She grasped the horn of her saddle with both hands and nearly threw herself over the horse’s back with all her might. “Careful!” She heard Abby very nearly gasp. She clicked her tongue and cinched her strong thighs around the animal’s sides, ushering it forward. 

“Mochof Skaifisa.” She rounded the horse to the Sky people and motioned for Jackson to hand her shoulder guard back as she thanked both doctors. If anything she would only leave them with a story, and no physical evidence of their contact, as the doctors ensured they washed their hands from the blood. She nodded politely. She had a lot of work to do. 

∞∞∞ 

Clarke and Raven scowled as they took note of five of the Ark guards returning back to Arkadia when they took note of six leaving through their pilfered binoculars from the military bunker. They were lugging an improvised wagon back that was filled to the brim with something. What it was was indeterminable, as there was a thick hide of what must have been a deer tossed over it. 

Byrne and a young girl with short cropped hair seemed tense, while the men seemed all too pleased with themselves. 

Raven took the binoculars from Clarke and examined the patrol moving back inside the gate. “What do you think that’s about, Princess?"

“I don’t know,” Clarke said with a scowl. She recalled hearing the evident clapping of firearms all morning, she could only hope her assumption was absolutely wrong. “But I don’t think anything good is going to come from this.”

“You don’t think they would go out of their way to…?”

“I hope - let’s try and give them the benefit of the doubt Rae.” She breathed unsteadily, trying to convince herself the pit in her stomach was misplaced. "They came from that direction." She pointed south. "Let's check it out."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Trigedasleng Translations:  
> Yu gon breik ai au taim yu odon - Are you going to free me when you've finished?  
> Yu gaf gothru klin an frag osir op sentaim - Do you wish to commit suicide and kill us as well?  
> Min yu op - Enter  
> Teik em laud, tromon-de - sound the horn  
> Chit yu mana dula op - What do you want to do?  
> Ai na jomp in bilaik gona kom Heda. Ai don gon Polis-de op - I'm going to fight with the commander's warriors. I'm going to Polis.  
> Ai granplei meija kom ai bro. Ai ste ogud!- I trained a lot with my brother. I'm good!  
> Os kofon, goufa - good trade, child  
> Ste yuj, trei kom Polis-de ste iffi - Stay strong, the path to Polis is risky.  
> Yu don biyo liedon kom yu nomon, nontu, an bro? - You said goodbye to your mother, father and brother?  
> Yu mana gothru klir. Won sonraun kom won sonraun - You will have safe passage. A life for a life.
> 
> Well, I do hope you've enjoyed this chapter. Now, I get that it seems kinda meh, to have such an explanation for Tristan's presence (And we will see where his Assholery starts as well :)), but to I suppose give further explanation, sometimes people decide to read more into something than what's intended to find a 'greater meaning', rather than taking things at face value.
> 
> Anyway! Thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it. If you'd like, drop me a comment. I love reading your thoughts!


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